G 
470 


U.C  BERKELEY  LIBR, 


F 


DEDICATED  TO 

HATTIE  L.  HECHT 

WITH  THE  LOVF  AND  GRATITUDE  OF 
THE  AUTHOR 


From  Plotzk  to  Boston 


BY 

MARY   ANTIN 
t\ 


WITH  A  FOREWORD  BY 

ISRAEL    ZANGWILL 


BOSTON,  MASS 

W,  B.  CLARKE  &  CO.,    PARK  STREET  CHURCH 
1899 


/H 


COPYRIGHT,  1899 
BY    MARY     ANTIN 


PRESS  OF  PHILIP  COWBK 
NBW  YORK  CITV 


FOREWORD 


The  "  infant  phenomenon  "  in  literature  is  rarer  than  in 
more  physical  branches  of  art,  but  its  productions  are  not 
likely  to  be  of  value  outside  the  doting  domestic  circle. 
Even  Pope  who  "lisped  in  numbers  for  the  numbers  came," 
did  not  add  to  our  Anthology  from  his  cradle,  though  he 
may  therein  have  acquired  his  monotonous  rocking-metre. 
Immaturity  of  mind  and  experience,  so  easily  disguised  on 
the  stage  or  the  music-stool — even  by  adults — is  more 
obvious  in  the  field  of  pure  intellect.  The  contribution 
with  which  Mary  Antin  makes  her  debut  in  letters  is,  how 
ever,  saved  from  the  emptiness  of  embryonic  thinking  by 
being  a  record  of  a  real  experience,  the  greatest  of  her  life; 
her  journey  from  Poland  to  Boston.  Even  so,  and  remark 
able  as  her  description  is  for  a  girl  of  eleven — for  it  was  at 
this  age  that  she  first  wrote  the  thing  in  Yiddish,  though 
she  was  thirteen  when  she  translated  it  into  English — it 
would  scarcely  be  worth  publishing  merely  as  a  literary 
curiosity.  But  it  happens  to  possess  an  extraneous  value. 
For,  despite  the  great  wave  of  Russian  immigration  into 
the  United  States,  and  despite  the  noble  spirit  in  .which-,  the 
Jews  of  America  have  grappled  with  the  invasion,  we. still 
know  too  little  of  the  inner  feelings  of  the  people  themselves, 

774586 

I 


8 

nor  do  we  adequately  realize  what  magic  vision  of  free 
America  lures  them  on  to  face  the  great  journey  to  the  other 
side  of  the  world. 

Mary  Antin's  vivid  description  of  all  she  and  her  deal 
ones  went  through,  enables  us  to  see  almost  with  our  own 
eyes  how  the  invasion  of  America  appears  to  the  impecuni 
ous  invader.  It  is  thus  "  a  human  document  "  of  consider, 
able  value,  as  well  as  a  promissory  note  of  future  perform 
ance.  The  quick  senses  of  the  child,  her  keen  powers  of 
observation  and  introspection,  her  impressionability  both  to 
sensations  and  complex  emotions— these  are  the  very  things 
out  of  which  literature  is  made;  the  raw  stuff  of  art.  Her 
capacity  to  handle  English — after  so  short  a  residence  in 
America — shows  that  she  possesses  also  the  instrument  of 
expression.  More  fortunate  than  the  poet  of  the  Ghetto, 
Morris  Rosenfeld,  she  will  have  at  her  command  the  most 
popular  language  in  the  world,  and  she  has  already  pro 
duced  in  it  passages  of  true  literature,  especially  in  her 
impressionistic  rendering  of  the  sea  and  the  bustling  phan 
tasmagoria  of  travel. 

What  will  be  her  development  no  one  can  say  precisely, 
and  I  would  not  presume  either  to  predict  or  to  direct  it,  for 
•'the  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth."  It  will  probably  take 
lyrical  shape.  Like  most  modern  Jewesses  who  have  written, 
she -is,  I  fear,  destined  to  spiritual  suffering:  fortunately  her 
work  evidences  a  genial  talent  for  enjoyment  and  a  warm 


9 

humanity  which  may  serve  to  counterbalance  the  curse  of 
reflectiveness.  That  she  is  growing,  is  evident  from  her  own 
Introduction,  written  only  the  other  day,  with  its  touches  of 
humor  and  more  complex  manipulation  of  groups  of  facts. 
But  I  have  ventured  to  counsel  delay  rather  than  precipita- 
tation  in  production — for  she  is  not  yet  sixteen — and  the 
completion  of  her  education,  physical  no  less  than  intellec 
tual;  and  it  is  to  this  purpose  that  such  profits  as  may 
accrue  from  this  publication  will  be  devoted.  Let  us  hope 
this  premature  recognition  of  her  potentialities  will  not 
injure  their  future  flowering,  and  that  her  development  will 
add  to  those  spiritual  and  intellectual  forces  of  which  big- 
hearted  American  Judaism  stands  sorely  in  need.  I  should 
explain  in  conclusion,  that  I  have  neither  added  nor  sub 
tracted,  even  a  comma,  and  that  I  have  no  credit  in  "  dis 
covering"  Mary  Antin.  I  did  but  endorse  the  verdict  of 
that  kind  and  charming  Boston  household  in  which  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  encountering  the  gifted  Polish  girl,  and  to 
a  member  of  which  this  little  volume  is  appropriately  dedi 
cated. 

I.  ZANGWILL. 


PREFATORY 


In  the  year  1891,  a  mighty  wave  of  the  emigration 
movement  swept  over  all  parts  of  Russia,  carrying  with 
it  a  vast  number  of  the  Jewish  population  to  the  distant 
shores  of  the  New  World — from  tyranny  to  democracy, 
from  darkness  to  light,  from  bondage  and  persecution  to 
freedom,  justice  and  equality.  But  the  great  mass  knew 
nothing  of  these  things;  they  were  going  to  the  foreign 
world  in  hopes  only  of  earning  their  bread  and  worship 
ing  their  God  in  peace.  The  different  currents  that 
directed  the  course  of  that  wave  cannot  be  here  enumer 
ated.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  its  power  was  enormous.  All 
over  the  land  homes  were  broken  up,  families  separated, 
lives  completely  altered,  for  a  common  end. 

The  emigration  fever  was  at  its  height  in  Plotzk, 
my  native  town,  in  the  central  western  part  of  Russia,  on 
the  Dvina  River.  ''America"  was  in  everybody's  mouth. 
Business  men  talked  of  it  over  their  accounts;  the  market 
women  made  up  their  quarrels  that  they  might  discuss  it 
from  stall  to  stall;  people  who  had  relatives  in  the  famous 
land  went  around  reading  their  letters  for  the  enlighten 
ment  of  less  fortunate  folks;  the  one  letter-carrier  in 
formed  the  public  how  many  letters  arrived  from  Ameri 
ca,  and  who  were  the  recipients;  children  played  at  emi 
grating;  old  folks  shook  their  sage  heads  over  the  even 
ing  fire,  and  prophesied  no  good  for  those  who  braved 


12 

the  terrors  of  the  sea  and  the  foreign  goal  beyond  it; — 
all  talked  of  it,  but  scarcely  anybody  knew  one  true  fact 
about  this  magic  land.  For  book-knowledge  was  not 
for  them;  and  a  few  persons — they  were  a  dressmaker's 
daughter,  and  a  merchant  with  his  two  sons — who  had 
returned  from  America  after  a  long  visit,  happened  to  be 
endowed  with  extraordinary  imagination,  (a  faculty 
closely  related  to  their  knowledge  of  their  old  country 
men's  ignorance),  and  their  descriptions  of  life  across  the 
ocean,  given  daily,  for  some  months,  to  eager  audiences, 
surpassed  anything  in  the  Arabian  Nights.  One  sad  fact 
threw  a  shadow  over  the  splendor  of  the  gold-paved, 
Paradise-like  fairyland.  The  travelers  all  agreed  that 
Jews  lived  there  in  the  most  shocking  impiety. 

Driven  by  a  necessity  for  bettering  the  family  circum 
stances,  and  by  certain  minor  forces  which  cannot  now 
be  named,  my  father  began  to  think  seriously  of  casting 
his  lot  with  the  great  stream  of  emigrants.  Many  family 
councils  were  held  before  it  was  agreed  that  the  plan 
must  be  carried  out.  Then  came  the  parting;  for  it  was 
impossible  for  the  whole  family  to  go  at  once.  I  re 
member  it,  though  I  was  only  eight.  It  struck  me  as 
rather  interesting  to  stand  on  the  platform  before  the 
train,  with  a  crowd  of  friends  weeping  in  sympathy  with 
us,  and  father  waving  his  hat  for  our  special  benefit,  and 
saying — the  last  words  we  heard  him  speak  as  the  train 
moved  off — 

"Good-bye,  Plotzk,  forever!" 

Then  followed  three  long  years  of  hope  and  doubt 


13 

for  father  in  America  and  us  in  Russia.  There  were  toil 
and  suffering  and  waiting  and  anxiety  for  all.  There 
were — but  to  tell  of  all  that  happened  in  those  years  I 
should  have  to  write  a  separate  history.  The  happy  day 
came  when  we  received  the  long-coveted  summons. 
And  what  stirring  times  followed!  The  period  of  pre 
paration  was  one  of  constant  delight  to  us  children.  We 
were  four — my  two  sisters,  one  brother  and  myself.  Our 
playmates  looked  up  to  us  in  respectful  admiration; 
neighbors,  if  they  made  no  direct  investigations,  bribed 
us  with  nice  things  for  information  as  to  what  was  going 
into  every  box,  package  and  basket.  And  the  house  was 
dismantled — people  came  and  carried  off  the  furniture; 
closets,  sheds  and  other  nooks  were  emptied  of  their 
contents;  the  great  wood-pile  was  taken  away  until  only 
a  few  logs  remained;  ancient  treasures  such  as  women 
are  so  loath  to  part  with,  and  which  mother  had  carried 
with  her  from  a  dear  little  house  whence  poverty  had 
driven  us,  were  brought  to  light  from  their  hiding  places, 
and  sacrificed  at  the  altar  whose  flames  were  consuming 
so  much  that  was  fraught  with  precious  association  and 
endeared  by  family  tradition ;  the  number  of  bundles  and 
boxes  increased  daily,  and  our  home  vanished  hourly; 
the  rooms  became  quite  uninhabitable  at  last,  and  we 
children  glanced  in  glee,  to  the  anger  of  the  echoes,  when 
we  heard  that  in  the  evening  we  were  to  start  upon  our 
journey. 

But  we  did  not  go  till  the  next  morning,  and  then  as 
secretly  as  possible.     For,  despite  the  glowing  tales  con- 


cerning  America,  people  flocked  to  the  departure  of  emi 
grants  much  as  they  did  to  a  funeral;  to  weep  and  lament 
while  (in  the  former  case  only,  I  believe)  they  envied- 
As  everybody  in  Plotzk  knew  us,  and  as  the  departure 
of  a  whole  family  was  very  rousing,  we  dared  not  brave 
the  sympathetic  presence  of  the  whole  township,  that 
we  knew  we  might  expect.  So  we  gave  out  a  false 
alarm. 

Even  then  there  was  half  the  population  of  Plotzk  on 
hand  the  next  morning.  We  were  the  heroes  of  the 
hour.  I  remember  how  the  women  crowded  around 
mother,  charging  her  to  deliver  messages  to  their  rela 
tives  in  America;  how  they  made  the  air  ring  with  their 
unintelligible  chorus;  how  they  showered  down  upon  us 
scores  of  suggestions  and  admonitions;  how  they  made 
us  frantic  with  their  sympathetic  weeping  and  wringing 
of  hands;  how,  finally,  the  ringing  of  the  signal  bell  set 
them  all  talking  faster  and  louder  than  ever,  in  desperate 
efforts  to  give  the  last  bits  of  advice,  deliver  the  last  mes 
sages,  and,  to  their  credit  let  it  be  said,  to  give  the  final, 
hearty,  unfeigned  good-bye  kisses,  hugs  and  good 
wishes. 

Well,  we  lived  through  three  years  of  waiting,  and 
also  through  a  half  hour  of  parting.  Some  of  our  rela 
tives  came  near  being  carried  off,  as,  heedless  of  the  last 
bell,  they  lingered  on  in  the  car.  But  at  last  they,  too, 
had  to  go,  and  we,  the  wanderers,  could  scarcely  see  the 
rainbow  wave  of  colored  handkerchiefs,  as,  dissolved  in 
tears,  we  were  carried  out  of  Plotzk,  away  from  home, 


15 

but  nearer  our  longed-for  haven  of  reunion;  nearer,  in 
deed,  to  everything  that  makes  life  beautiful  and  gives 
one  an  aim  and  an  end — freedom,  progress,  knowledge, 
light  and  truth,  with  their  glorious  host  of  followers. 
But  we  did  not  know  it  then. 

The  following  pages  contain  the  description  of  our 
journey,  as  I  wrote  it  four  years  ago,  when  it  was  all  fresh 
in  my  memory.  M.  A. 


FROM  PLOTZK  TO  BOSTON. 


The  short  journey  from  Plotzk  to  Vilna  was  unevcnt  - 
ful.  Station  after  station  was  passed  without  our  taking, 
any  interest  in  anything-,  for  that  never-to-be-forgotten' 
leave  taking  at  the  Plotzk  railway  station  left  us  all  in. 
such  a  state  of  apathy  to  all  things  except  our  own 
thoughts  as  could  not  easily  be  thrown  off.  Indeed,  had 
we  not  been  obliged  to  change  trains  at  Devinsk  and. 
being'  the  inexperienced  travellers  we  were,  do  a  great 
deal  of  bustling  and  hurrying  and  questioning  of  porters- 
and  mere  idlers,  I  do  not  know  how  long  we  would  have 
remained  in  that  same  thoughtful,  silent  state. 

Towards  evening  We  reached  Vilna,  and  such  a  wel 
come  as  we  got!  Up  to  then  I  had  never  seen  such  a 
mob  of  porters  and  isvostchiky.  I  do  not  clearly  remem 
ber  just  what  occurred,  but  a  most  vivid  recollection  of 
being  very  uneasy  for  a  time  is  still  retained  in  my  mem 
ory.  You  see  my  uncle  was  to  have  met  us  at  the  sta 
tion,  but  urgent  business  kept  him  elsewhere. 

Now  it  was  universally  believed  in  Plotzk  that  it  \vas 
wise  not  to  trust  the  first  isvostchik  who  offered  his  ser 
vices  when  one  arrived  in  Vilna  a  stranger,  and  I  do  .not 


iS 

khow'tb'-tliis  day  how  mother  managed  to  get  away  from 
thej  mObV-and  how,  above  all.  she  dared  to  trust  herself 
with  her  precious  baggage  to  one  of  them.  But  I  have 
thought  better  of  Vilna  isvostchiky  since,  for  we  were 
safely  landed  after  a  pretty  long  drive  in  front  of  my  un- 
de's  store,  with  never  one  of  our  number  lost,  never 
a  bundle  stolen  or  any  mishap  whatever. 

Oar  stay  in  Vilna  was  marked  by  nothing-  of  interest. 
We  stayed  only  long  enough  for  some  necessary  papers 
to  reach  us,  and  during  that  time  I  discovered  that  Vilna 
was  very  much  like  Plotzk,  though  larger,  cleaner  and 
noisier.  There  were  the  same  coarse,  hoarse-voiced 
women  in  the  market,  the  same  kind  of  storekeepers  in 
t5he  low  store  doors,  forever  struggling  and  quarrelling 
for  a  customer.  The  only  really  interesting  things  I  re 
member  were  the  horsecars,  which  I  had  never  even 
heard  of,  and  in  one  of  which  I  had  a  lovely  ride  for  five 
copeiky,  and  a  large  book  store  on  the  Nemetzka  yah 
Ulitza.  The  latter  object  may  not  seem  of  any  interest  to 
most  people,  but  I  had  never  seen  so  many  books  in  one 
place  before,  and  I  could  not  help  regarding  them  with 
longing  and  wonder. 

At  last  all  was    in  readiness  for   our  start.     This  was 
really  the  beginning  of  our  long  journey,  which  I  shall 
'endeavor  to  describe. 

I  will  not  give  any  description  of  the  various  places  we 


19 

passed,  for  we  stopped  at  few  places  and  always  under 
circumstances  which  did  not  permit  of  sightseeing.  I 
shall  only  speak  of  such  things  as  made  a  distinct  im 
pression  upon  my  mind,  which,  it  must  be  remembered, 
was  not  mature  enough  to  be  impressed  by  what  older 
minds  were,  while  on  the  contrary  it  was  in  just  the  state 
to  take  in  many  things  which  others  heeded  not. 

I  do  not  know  the  exact  date,  but  I  do  know  that  it 
was  at  the  break  of  day  on  a  Sunday  and  very  early  in 
April  when  \ve  left  Vilna.  We  had  not  slept  any  the 
night  before.  Fannie  and  I  spent  the  long  hours  in  play 
ing  various  quiet  games  and  watching  the  clock.  At  last 
the  long  expected  hour  arrived;  our  train  would  be  due 
in  a  short  time.  All  but  Fannie  and  myself  had  by  this 
time  fallen  into  a  drowse,  half  sitting,  half  lying  on  some 
of  the  many  baskets  and  boxes  that  stood  all  about  the 
room  all  ready  to  be  taken  to  the  station.  So  we  set  to 
work  to  rouse  the  rest,  and  with  the  aid  of  an  alarm 
clock's  loud  ringing,  we  soon  had  them  at  least  half 
awake;  and  while  the  others  sat  rubbing  their  eyes  and 
trying  to  look  wide  awake,  Uncle  Borris  had  gone  out, 
and  when  he  returned  with  several  droskies  to  convey  us 
to  the  station,  we  were  all  ready  for  the  start. 

We  went  out  into  the  street,  and  now  I  perceived  that 
-.iot  we  alone  were  sleepy;  everything  slept,  and  nature 
also  slept,  deeply,  sweetly. 


20 

The  sky  was  covered  with  dark  gray  clouds  (perhaps 
that  was  its  night-cap),  from  which  a  chill,  drizzling  rain 
was  slowly  descending,  and  the  thick  morning  fog  shut 
out  the  road  from  our  sight.  No  sound  came  from  any 
direction;  slumber  and  quiet  reigned  everywhere,  for 
every  thing  and  person  slept,  forgetful  for  a  time  of  joys, 
sorrows,  hopes,  fears, — everything. 

Sleepily  we  said  our  last  good-byes  to  the  family,  took 
our  seats  in  the  droskies,  and  soon  the  Hospitalnayah 
Ulitza  was  lost  to  sight.  As  the  vehicles  rattled  along 
the  deserted  streets,  the  noise  of  the  horses'  hoofs  and  the 
wheels  striking  against  the  paving  stones  sounded  unusu 
ally  loud  in  the  general  hush,  and  caused  the  echoes  to 
answer  again  and  again  from  the  silent  streets  and  alleys. 

In  a  short  time  we  were  at  the  station.  In  our  impa 
tience  we  had  come  too  early,  and  now  the  waiting  was 
very  tiresome.  Everybody  knows  how  lively  and  noisy 
it  is  at  a  railroad  station  when  a  train  is  expected.  But 
now  there  were  but  a  few  persons  present,  and  in  every 
body's  face  I  could  see  the  reflection  of  my  own  dissatis 
faction,  because,  like  myself,  they  had  much  rather  have 
been  in  a  comfortable,  warm  bed  than  up  and  about  in  the 
rain  and  fog.  Everything  was  so  uncomfortable. 

Suddenly  we  heard  a  long  shrill  whistle,  to  which  the 
surrounding  dreariness  gave  a  strangely  mournful 
sound,  the  clattering  train  rushed  into  the  depot  and 


21 

stood  still.  Several  passengers  (they  were  very  few)  left 
the  cars  and  hastened  towards  where  the  droskies  stood, 
and  after  rousing  the  sleepy  isvostchiky,  were  whirled 
away  to  their  several  destinations. 

When  we  had  secured  our  tickets  and  seen  to  the  bag 
gage  we  entered  a  car  in  the  women's  division  and  waited 
impatiently  for  the  train  to  start.  At  last  the  first  signal 
was  given,  then  the  second  and  third;  the  locomotive 
shrieked  and  puffed,  the  train  moved  slowly,  then  swiftly 
it  left  the  depot  far  behind  it. 

From  Vilna  to  our  next  stopping"  place,  Verzbolovo, 
there  was  a  long,  tedious  ride  of  about  eight  hours.  As 
the  day  continued  to  be  dull  and  foggy,  very  little  could 
be  seen  through  the  windows.  Besides,  no  one  seemed 
to  care  or  to  be  interested  in  anything.  Sleepy  and  tired 
as  we  all  were,  we  got  little  rest,  except  the  younger  ones, 
for  we  had  not  yet  got  used  to  living  in  the  cars  and  could 
not  make  ourselves  very  comfortable.  For  the  greater., 
part  of  the  time  we  remained  as  unsocial  as  the  weather! 
was  unpleasant.  The  car  was  very  still,  there  being  few- 
passengers,  among  them  a  very  pleasant  kind  gentleman 
travelling  with  his  pretty  daughter.  Mother  found  them 
very  pleasant  to  chat  with,  and  we  children  found  it  less 
tiresome  to  listen  to  them. 

At  half  past  twelve  o'clock  the  train  came  to  a  stop  be 
fore  a  large  depot,  and  the  conductor  announced  "Verz- 


I 
22 

bolovo,  fifteen  minutes!"  The  sight  that  now  presented 
itself  was  very  cheering  after  our  long,  unpleasant  ride. 
The  -weather  had  changed  very  much.  The  sun  Avas 
shining  brightly  and  not  a  trace  of  fog  or  cloud  was  to 
be  seen.  Crowds  of  well-dressed  people  were  every 
where — walking  up  and  down  the  platform,  passing 
through  the  many  gates  leading  to  the  street,  sitting 
around  the  long,  well-loaded  tables,  eating,  drinking, 
talking  or  reading  newspapers,  waited  upon  by  the  live 
liest,  busiest  waiters  I  had  ever  seen — and  there  was  such 
an  activity  and  bustle  about  everything  that  I  wished  I 
could  join  in  it,  it  seemed  so  hard  to  sit  still.  But  I  had 
to  content  myself  with  looking  on  with  the  others,  while 
the  friendly  gentleman  whose  acquaintance  my  mother 
had  made  (I  do  not  recollect  his  name)  assisted  her  in  ob 
taining  our  tickets  for  Eidtkunen,  and  attending  to  every 
thing  else  that  needed  attention,  and  there  were  many 
things. 

Soon  the  fifteen  minutes  were  up,  our  kind  fellow-pas 
senger  and  his  daughter  bade  us  farewell  and  a  pleasant 
journey  (we  were  just  on  the  brink  of  the  beginning  of 
our  troubles),  the  train  puffed  out  of  the  depot  and  we  all 
felt  we  were  nearing  a  very  important  stage  in  our  jour 
ney.  At  this  time,  cholera  was  raging  in  Russia,  and 
was  spread  by  emigrants  going  to  America  in  the  coun 
tries  through  which  they  travelled.  To  stop  this  danger. 


23 

measures  were  taken  to  make  emigration  from  Russia 
more  difficult  than  ever.  I  believe  that  at  all  times  the 
crossing  of  the  boundary  between  Russia  and  Germany 
was  a  source  of  trouble  to  Russians,  but  with  a  special 
passport  this  was  easily  overcome.  When,  however,  the 
traveller  could  not  afford  to  supply  himself  with  one,  the 
boundary  was  crossed  by  stealth,  and  many  amusing 
anecdotes  are  told  of  persons  who  crossed  in  some  dis 
guise,  often  that  of  a  mujik  who  said  he  was  going  to  the 
town  on  the  German  side  to  sell  some  goods,  carried  for 
the  purpose  of  ensuring  the  success  of  the  ruse.  When 
several  such  tricks  had  been  played  on  the  guards  it  be 
came  very  risky,  and  often,  when  caught,  a  traveller  re 
sorted  to  stratagem,  which  is  very  diverting  when  after 
wards  described,  but  not  so  at  a  time  when  nuici.  de 
pends  on  its  success.  Some  times  a  paltry  bribe  secured 
one  a  safe  passage,  and  often  emigrants  were  aided  by 
men  who  made  it  their  profession  to  help  them  cross,  of 
ten  (suffering  themselves  to  be  paid  such  sums  for  the 
service  that  it  paid  best  to  be  provided  with  a  special  pass 
port. 

As  I  said,  the  difficulties  were  greater  at  the  turn  we 
were  travelling,  and  our  friends  believed  we  had  better 
not  attempt  a  stealthy  crossing,  and  we  procured  the 
necessary  document  to  facilitate  it.  We  therefore  ex 
pected  little  trouble,  but  some  we  thought  there  might  be, 


24 

for,  we  had  heard  some  vague  rumors  to  the  effect  that 
a  special  passport  was  not  as  powerful  an  agent  as  it  used 
ito  be* 

We  now  prepared  to  enjoy  a  little  lunch,  and  before  we 
foad  time  to  clear  it  away  the  train  stopped,  and  we  saw 
^several  men  in  blue  uniforms,  gilt  buttons  and  brass  hel- 
•<niets,  if  you  may  call  them  so,  on  their  heads.  At  his 
rside  each  wore  a  kind  of  leather  case  attached  to  a  wide 
^bronze  belt.  In  these  cases  they  carried  something  like 
-a  revolver,  and  each  had,  besides,  a  little  book  with  black 
•  )il-doth  covers. 

I  can  give  you  no  idea  of  the  impression  these  men 
v(thcy  were  German  gendarmes)  made  on  us,  by  saying 
diey  frightened  us.  Perhaps  because  their  (to  us)  im 
pressive  appearance  gave  them  a  stern  look;  perhaps  bc- 
>cause  they  really  looked  something  more  than  grave,  we 
were  so  frightened.  I  only  know  that  we  were.  I  can 
-see  the  reason  now  clearly  enough.  Like  all  persons 
who  were  used  to  the  tyranny  of  a  Russian  policeman, 
who  practically  ruled  the  ward  or  town  under  his  friend 
ly  protection,  and  never  hesitated  to  assert  his  rights  as 
holder  'of  unlimited  authority  over  his  little  domain,  in 
that  mild,  amiable  manner  so  well  known  to  such  of  his 
subjects  as  he  particularly  favored  with  his  vigilant  re 
gard — like  all  such  persons,  I  say,  we  did  not,  could  not, 
•••xpect  to  receive  any  kind  treatment  at  the  hands  of  a 


25 

number  of  officers,  especially  as  \ve  were  in  the  very  act 
of  attempting-  to  part  with  our  much-beloved  mother 
country,  >of  which  act,  to  judge  by  the  pains  it  took  to 
make  it  difficult,  the  government  did  not  approve.  It 
was  a  natural  fear  in  us,  as  you  can  easily  see.  Pretty 
soon  mother  recovered  herself,  and  remembering  that 
the  train  stops  for  a  few  minutes  only,  was  beginning  to 
put  away  the  scattered  articles  hastily  when  a  gendarme 
entered  our  car  and  said  we  were  not  to  leave  it.  Mam 
ma  asked  him  why.  but  he  said  nothing  and  left  the  car, 
another  gendarme  entering  as  he  did  so.  He  demanded 
where  we  were  going,  and,  hearing  the  answer,  went  out. 
Before  we  had  had  time  to  look  about  at  each  other's 
frightened  faces,  another  man,  a  doctor,  as  we  soon  knew, 
came  in  followed  by  a  third  gendarme. 

The  doctor  asked  many  questions  about  our  health, 
and  of  what  nationality  we  were.  Then  he  asked  about 
various  things,  as  where  we  were  going  to,  if  we  had 
tickets,  how  much  money  we  had,  where  we  came  from, 
to  whom  we  were  going,  etc.,  et-.,  making  a  note  of  every 
answer  he  received.  This  done,  he  shook  his  head  with 
his  shining  helmet  on  it,  and  said  slowly  ([  imagined  he 
enjoyed  frightening  us),  "With  these  third  class  tickets 
you  cannot  go  to  America  now,  because  it  is  forbidden  to 
admit  emigrants  into  Germany  who  have  not  at  least  sec 
ond  class  tickets.  You  will  have  to  return  to  Russia 


26 

unless  you  pay  at  the  office  here  to  have  your  tickets 
changed  for  second  class  ones."  After  a  few  minutes' 
calculation  and  reference  to  the  notes  he  had  made,  he 
added  calmly,  "I  find  you  will  need  two  hundred  rubles 
to  get  your  tickets  exchanged;"  and,  as  the  finishing  , 
stroke  to  his  pleasing  communication,  added,  "Your  pass 
ports  are  of  no  use  at  all  now  because  the  necessary  part 
has  to  be  torn  out,  whether  you  are  allowed  to  pass  or 
not."  A  plain,  short  speech  he  made  of  it,  that  cruel  man. 
Yet  every  word  sounded  in  our  ears  with  an  awful  sound 
that  stopped  the  beating  of  our  hearts  for  a  while- 
sounded  like  the  ringing  of  funeral  bells  to  us,  and  yet 
without  the  mournfully  sweet  music  those  bells  make, 
that  they  might  heal  while  they  hurt. 

We  were  homeless,  houseless,  and  friendless  in  a 
strange  place.  We  had  hardly  money  enough  to  last  us 
through  the  voyage  for  which  we  had  hoped  and  waited 
for  three  long  years.  We  had  suffered  much  that  the 
reunion  we  longed  for  might  come  about;  we  had  pre 
pared  ourselves  to  suffer  more  in  order  to  bring  it  about, 
and  had  parted  with  those  we  loved,  with  places  that  were 
dear  to  us  in  spite  of  what  we  passed  through  in  them, 
never  again  to  see  them,  as  we  were  convinced — all  for 
the  same  dear  end.  With  strong  hopes  and  high  spirits 
that  hid  the  sad  parting,  we  had  started  on  our  long  jour 
ney.  And  now  we  were  checked  so  unexpectedly  but 


27 

surely,  the  blow  coming-  from  where  we  little  expected 
it,  being1,  as  we  believed,  safe  in  that  quarter.  And  that 
is  why  the  simple  words  had  such  a  frightful  meaning  to 
us.  We  had  received  a  wound  we  knew7  not  how  to  heal. 
When  mother  had  recovered  enough  to  speak  she  be 
gan  to  argue  with  the  gendarme,  telling  him  our  story 
and  begging  him  to  be  kind.  The  children  were  fright 
ened  by  what  they  understood,  and  all  but  cried.  I 
was  only  wondering  what  would  happen,  and  wishing  I 
could  pour  out  my  grief  in  tears,  as  the  others  did;  but 
when  I  feel  deeply  I  seldom  show  it  in  that  way,  and  al 
ways  wish  I  could. 

Mother's  supplications,  and  perhaps  the  children's  in 
direct  ones,  had  more  effect  than  I  supposed  they  would. 
The  officer  was  moved,  even  if  he  had  just  said  that  tears 
would  not  be  accepted  instead  of  money,  and  gave  us 
such  kind  advice  that  I  began  to  be  sorry  I  had  thought 
him  cruel,  for  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  only  doing 
liis  duty  and  had  no  part  in  our  trouble  that  he  could  be 
blamed  for.  now  that  I  had  more  kindly  thoughts  of  him. 

He  said  that  we  would  now  be  taken  to  Keebart,  a  few 
versts'  distance  from  Verzbolovo,  where  one  Herr  Schi- 
dorsky  lived.  This  man,  he  said,  was  well  known  for 
miles  around,  and  we  were  to  tell  him  our  story  and  ask 
him  to  help  us,  which  he  probably  would,  being  very 
kind. 


28 

A  ray  of  hope  shone  on  each  of  the  frightened  faces 
listening  so  attentively  to  this  bearer  of  both  evil  and  hap 
py  tidings.  I,  for  one,  was  very  confident  that  the  good 
man  would  heip  us  through  our  difficulties,  for  I  was 
most  unwilling  to  believe  that  we  really  couldn't  con 
tinue  .our  journey.  Which  of  us  was  ?  I'd  like  to 
know. 

We  are  in  Keebart,  at  the  depot.  The  least  important 
particular  even  of  that  place,  I  noticed  and  remembered. 
How  the  porter — he  was  an  ugly,  grinning  man — carried 
in  our  things  and  put  them  away  in  the  southern  corner  of 
the  big-  room,  on  the  floor;  how  we  sat  down  on  a  settee 
near  them,  a  yellow  settee;  how  the  glass  roof  let  in  so 
much  light  that  we  had  to  shade  our  eyes  because  the  car 
had  been  dark  and  we  had  been  crying;  how  there  were 
only  a  few  people  besides  ourselves  there,  and  how  I  began 
to  count  them  and  stopped  when  I  noticed  a  sign  over  the 
head  of  the  fifth  person — a  little  woman  with  a  red  nose 
and  a  pimple  on  it,  that  seemed  to  be  staring  at  me  as 
much  as  the  grayish-blue  eyes  above  them,  it  was  so  large 
and  round — and  tried  to  read  the  German,  with  the  aid 
of  the  Russian  translation  below.  I  noticed  all  this  and 
remembered  it,  as  if  there  was  nothing  else  in  the  world 
for  me  to  think  of — no  America,  no  gendarme  to  destroy 
one's  passports  and  speak  of  two  hundred  rubles  as  if  he 
were  a  millionaire,  no  possibility  of  being  sent  back  to 


29 

one's  old  home  whether  one  felt  at  all  grateful  for  the 
kindness  or  not — nothing  but  that  most  attractive  of 
places,  full  of  interesting  sights. 

For,  though  I  had  been  so  hopeful  a  little  while  ago,  I 
felt  quite  discouraged  when  a  man,  very  sour  and 
grumbling — and  he  was  a  Jew — a  "Son  of  Mercy"  as  a 
certain  song  said — refused  to  tell  mamma  where  Schi- 
dorsky  lived.  I  then  believed  that  the  whole  world  must 
have  united  against  us;  and  decided  to  show  my  defiant 
indifference  by  leaving  the  world  to  be  as  unkind  as  it 
pleased,  while  I  took  no  interest  in  such  trifles. 

So  I  let  my  mind  lose  itself  in  a  queer  sort  of  mist — a 
something  I  cannot  describe  except  by  saying  it  must 
have  been  made  up  of  lazy  inactivity.  Through  this  mist 
1  saw  and  heard  indistinctly  much  that  followed. 

When  I  think  of  it  now,  I  see  how  selfish  it  was  to  al 
low  myself  to  sink,  body  and  mind,  in  such  a  sea  of  help 
less  laziness,  when  I  might  have  done  something  besides 
awaiting  the  end  of  that  critical  time,  whatever  it  might 
be — something,  though  what,  I  do  not  see  even  now,  I 
own.  But  I  only  studied  the  many  notices  till  I  thought 
myself  very  well  acquainted  with  the  German  tongue; 
and  now  and  then  tried  to  cheer  the  other  children,  who 
were  still  inclined  to  cry,  by  pointing  out  to  them  some 
of  the  things  that  interested  me.  For  this  faulty  conduct 
I  have  no  excuse  to  give,  unless  youth  and  the  fact  that  I 


30 

was  stunned  with  the  shock  we  had  just  received,  will  be 
accepted. 

I  remember  through  that  mist  that  mother  found 
Schidorsky's  home  at  last,  but  was  told  she  could  not  see 
him  till  a  little  later;  that  she  came  back  to  comfort  us, 
and  found  there  our  former  fellow  passenger  who  had 
come  with  us  from  Vilna,  and  that  he  was  very  indignant 
at  the  way  in  which  we  were  treated,  and  scolded,  and  de 
clared  he  would  have  the  matter  in  all  the  papers,  and 
said  we  must  be  helped.  I  remember  how  mamma  saw 
Schidorsky  at  last,  spoke  to  him,  and  then  told  us,  word 
for  word,  what  his  answer  had  been;  that  he  wouldn't 
wait  to  be  asked  to  use  all  his  influence,  and  wouldn't  lose 
a  moment  about  it,  and  he  didn't,  for  he  went  out  at  once 
on  that  errand,  while  his  good  daughter  did  her  best  to 
comfort  mamma  with  kind  words  and  tea.  I  remember 
that  there  was  much  going  to  the  good  man's  house; 
much  hurrying  of  special  messengers  to  and  from  Eidt- 
kunen;  trembling  inquiries,  uncertain  replies  made  hope 
ful  only  by  the  pitying,  encouraging  words  and  manners 
of  the  deliverer — for  all,  even  the  servants,  were  kind  as 
good  angels  at  that  place.  I  remember  that  another  lit 
tle  family — there  were  three — were  discovered  by  us  in 
the  same  happy  state  as  ourselves,  and  like  the  dogs  in 
the  fable,  who,  receiving  care  at  the  hands  of  a  kind  man, 
sent  their  friends  to  him  for  help,  we  sent  them  to  our 
helper. 


I  remember  seeing-  night  come  out  of  that  mist,  and 
bringing  more  trains  and  people  and  noise  than  the  whole 
clay  (we  still  remained  at  the  depot),  till  I  felt  sick  and 
dizzy.  I  remember  wondering'  what  kind  of  a  night  it 
was,  but  not  knowing  how  to  rind  out,  as  if  I  had  no 
senses.  I  remember  that  somebody  said  we  were  obliged 
to  remain  in  Keebart  that  night  and  that  we  set  out  to 
find  lodgings;  that  the  most  important  thing's  I  saw  on 
the  way  were  the  two  largest  dolls  1  had  ever  seen,  car 
ried  by  two  pretty  little  girls,  and  a  big,  handsome  fath 
er:  and  a  great  deal  of  gravel  in  the  streets,  and  boards 
for  the  crossing's.  1  remember  that  we  found  a  little 
room  (we  had  to  go  up  four  steps  first)  that  we  could 
have  for  seventy-five  copecks,  with  our  tea  paid  for  in 
that  sum.  I  remember,  through  that  mist,  how  I  won 
dered  what  1  was  sleeping  on  that  night,  as  1  wonder 
ed  about  the  weather;  that  we  really  woke  up  in  the 
morning  ([  was  so  glad  to  rest  1  had  believed  we  should 
never  be  disturbed  again)  and  washed,  and  dressed  and 
breakfasted  and  went  to  the  depot  again,  to  be  always  on 
hand.  I  remember  that  mamma  and  the  father  of  the  lit 
tle  family  went  at  once  to  the  only  good  man  on  earth  (I 
thought  so)  and  that  the  party  of  three  were  soon  gone, 
by  the  help  of  some  agent  that  was  slower,  for  good  rea 
sons,  in  helping  us. 

1   remember  that  mamma  came    to  us  soon  after  and 


32 

said  that  Herr  Schidorsky  had  told  her  to  ask  the  Post- 
meister — some  high  official  there — for  a  pass  to  Eidtku- 
nen;  and  there  she  should  speak  herself  to  our  protector's 
older  brother  who  could  help  us  by  means  of  his  great 
power  among  the  officers  of  high  rank;  that  she  returned 
in  a  few  hours  and  told  us  the  two  brothers  were  equal 
in  kindness,  for  the  older  one,  too,  said  he  would  not  wait 
to  be  asked  to  do  his  best  for  us.  I  remember  that  an 
other  day — so-o-o  long — passed  behind  the  mist,  and  we 
were  still  in  that  dreadful,  noisy,  tiresome  depot,  with  no 
change,  till  we  went  to  spend  the  night  at  Herr  Schidor- 
sky's,  because  they  wouldn't  let  us  go  anywhere  else.  On 
the  way  there,  I  remember,  I  saw  something  marvellous 
— queer  little  wooden  sticks  stuck  on  the  lines  where 
clothes  hung  for  some  purpose.  (I  didn't  think  it  was 
for  drying,  because  you  know  I  always  saw  things  hung 
up  on  fences  and  gates  for  such  purposes.  The  queer 
things  turned  out  to  be  clothes-pins).  And,  I  remember, 
I  noticed  many  other  things  of  equal  importance  to  our 
affairs,  till  we  came  to  the  little  house  in  the  garden. 
Here  we  were  received,  I  remember  with  much  kindness 
and  hospitality.  We  had  a  fire  made  for  us,  food  and 
drink  brought  in,  and  a  servant  was  always  inquiring 
whether  anything  more  could  be  done  for  our  comfort. 

I  remember,  still  through  that  misty  veil,  what  a  pleas 
ant  evening  we  passed,  talking  over  what  had  so  far  hap- 


33 

pened,  and  wondering"  what  would  come.  I  must  have 
talked  like  one  lost  in  a  thick  fog,  groping  carefully.  But, 
had  I  been  shut  up,  mentally,  in  a  tower  nothing  else 
could  pierce,  the  sense  of  gratitude  that  naturally  sprung 
from  the  kindness  that  surrounded  us,  must  have,  would 
have  found  a  passage  for  itself  to  the  deepest  cavities  of 
the  heart.  Yes,  though  all  my  senses  were  dulled  by 
what  had  passed  over  us  so  lately,  I  was  yet  aware  of  the 
deepest  sense  of  thankfulness  one  can  ever  feel.  I  was 
aware  of  something-  like  the  sweet  presence  of  angels  in 
the  persons  of  good  Schidorsky  and  his  family.  Oh,  that 
some  knowledge  of  that  gratitude  might  reach  those  for 
whom  we  felt  it  so  keenly!  We  all  felt  it.  But  the  deep 
est  emotions  are  so  hard  to  express.  I  thought  of  this 
as  I  lay  awake  a  little  while,  and  said  to  myself,  thinking 
of  our  benefactor,  that  he  was  a  Jew,  a  true  "Son  of 
Mercy."  And  I  slept  with  that  thought.  And  this  is 
the  last  I  remember  seeing  and  feeling  behind  that  mist 
of  lazy  inactivity. 

The  next  morning,  I  woke  not  only  from  the  night's 
sleep,  but  from  my  waking  dreaminess.  All  the  vapors 
dispersed  as  I  went  into  the  pretty  flower  garden  where 
the  others  were  already  at  play,  and  by  the  time  we  had 
finished  a  good  breakfast,  served  by  a  dear  servant  girl, 
I  felt  quite  myself  again. 

Of  course,  mamma  hastened    to  Herr  Schidorsky  as 


34 

soon  as  she  could,  and  he  sent  her  to  the  Postmeister 
again,  to  ask  him  to  return  the  part  of  our  passports  that 
had  been  torn  out,  and  without  which  we  could  not  go  on. 
He  said  he  would  return  them  as  soon  as  he  received 
word  from  Eidtkunen.  So  we  could  only  wait  and  hope. 
At  last  it  came  and  so  suddenly  that  we  ran  off  to  the  de 
pot  with  hardly  a  hat  on  all  our  heads,  or  a  coat  on  our 
backs,  with  two  men  running  behind  with  our  things, 
making  it  a  very  ridiculous  sight.  We  have  often  laugh 
ed  over  it  since. 

Of  course,  in  such  a  confusion  we  could  not  say  even 
one  word  of  farewell  or  thanks  to  our  deliverers.  But, 
turning  to  see  that  we  were  all  there,  I  saw  them  standing 
in  the  gate,  crying  that  all  was  well  now,  and  wishing  us 
many  pleasant  things,  and  looking  as  if  they  had  been 
receiving  all  the  blessings  instead  of  us. 

I  have  often  thought  they  must  have  purposely  ar 
ranged  it  that  we  should  have  to  leave  in  a  hurry,  because 
they  wouldn't  stand  any  expression  of  gratefulness. 

Well,  we  just  reached  our  car  in  time  to  see  our  bag 
gage  brought  from  the  office  and  ourselves  inside,  when 
the  last  bell  rang.  Then,  before  we  could  get  breath 
enough  to  utter  more  than  faint  gasps  of  delight,  we  were 
again  in  Eidtkunen. 

The  gendarmes  came  to  question  us  again,  but  when 
mother  said  that  we  were  going  to  Herr  Schidorsky  of 


35 

Eidtkunen,  as  she  had  been  told  to  say,  we  were  allowed 
to  leave  the  train.  I  really  thought  we  were  to  be  the 
visitors  of  the  elder  Schidorsky,  but  it  turned  out  to  be 
only  an  understanding  between  him  and  the  officers  that 
those  claiming-  to  be  on  their  way  to  him  were  not  to  be 
troubled. 

At  any  rate,  we  had  now  really  crossed  the  forbidden 
boundary — we  were  in  Germany. 

There  was  a  terrible  confusion  in  the  baggage-room 
where  we  were  directed  to  go.  Boxes,  baskets,  bags, 
valises,  and  great,  shapeless  things  belonging  to  no  par 
ticular  class  were  thrown  about  by  porters  and  other  men, 
who  sorted  them  and  put  tickets  on  all  but  those  con 
taining  provisions,  while  others  were  opened  and  examin 
ed  in  haste.  At  last  our  turn  came,  and  our  things,  along 
with  those  of  all  other  American-bound  travellers,  were 
taken  away  to  be  steamed  and  smoked  and  other  such 
processes  gone  through.  We  wrere  told  to  wait  till  no 
tice  should  be  given  us  of  something  else  to  be  done.  Our 
train  would  not  depart  till  nine  in  the  evening. 

As  usual,  I  noticed  all  the  little  particulars  of  the  wait 
ing  room.  What  else  could  I  do  with  so  much  time  and 
not  even  a  book  to  read?  I  could  describe  it  exactly — 
the  large,  square  room,  painted  walls,  long  tables  with 
fruits  and  drinks  of  all  kinds  covering  them,  the  white 
chairs,  carved  settees,  beautiful  china  and  cut  glass  show- 


36 

ing  through  the  glass  doors  of  the  dressers,  and  the  nick 
el  samovar,  which  attracted  my  attention  because  I  had 
never  seen  any  but  copper  or  brass  ones.  The  best  and 
the  worst  of  everything  there  was  a  large  case  full  of 
books.  It  was  the  best,  because  they  were  "books"  and 
all  could  use  them;  the  worst,  because  they  were  all  Ger 
man,  and  my  studies  in  the  railway  depot  of  Keebart  had 
not  taught  me  so  much  that  I  should  be  able  to  read 
books  in  German.  It  was  very  hard  to  see  people  get 
those  books  and  enjoy  them  while  I  couldn't.  It  was 
impossible  to  be  content  with  other  people's  pleasure, 
and  I  wasn't. 

When  I  had  almost  finished  counting  the  books,  I  no 
ticed  that  mamma  and  the  others  had  made  friends  with 
a  family  of  travellers  like  ourselves.  Frau  Gittleman  and 
her  five  children  made  very  interesting  companions  for 
the  rest  of  the  day,  and  they  seemed  to  think  that  Frau 
Antin  and  the  four  younger  Antins  were  just  as  interest 
ing;  perhaps  excepting,  in  their  minds,  one  of  them  who 
must  have  appeared  rather  uninteresting  from  a  habit  she 
had  of  looking  about  as  if  always  expecting  to  make  dis 
coveries. 

But  she  was  interested,  if  not  interesting,  enough  when 
the  oldest  of  the  young  Gittlemans,  who  was  a  young 
gentleman  of  seventeen,  produced  some  books  which  she 
could  read.  Then  all  had  a  merry  time  together,  read- 


37 

ing,  talking,  telling  the  various  adventures  of  the  journey, 
and  walking,  as  far  as  we  were  allowed,  up  and  down  the 
long  platform  outside,  till  we  were  called  to  go  and  see,  if 
we  wanted  to  see,  how  our  things  were  being  made  fit  for 
further  travel.  It  was  interesting  to  see  how  they  man 
aged  to  have  anything  left  to  return  to  us,  after  all  the 
processes  of  airing-  and  smoking  and  steaming  and  other 
assaults  on  supposed  germs  of  the  dreaded  cholera  had 
been  done  with,  the  pillows,  even,  being  ripped  open  to 
be  steamed!  All  this  was  interesting,  but  we  were  rather 
disagreeably  surprised  when  a  bill  for  these  unasked-for 
services  had  to  be  paid. 

The  Gittlemans,  we  found,  were  to  keep  us  company 
for  some  time.  At  the  expected  hour  we  all  tried  to  find 
room  in  a  car  indicated  by  the  conductor.  We  tried,  but 
could  only  find  enough  space  on  the  floor  for  our  bag 
gage,  on  which  we  made  believe  sitting  comfortably.  For 
now  we  were  obliged  to  exchange  the  comparative  com 
forts  of  a  third  class  passenger  train  for  the  certain  dis 
comforts  of  a  fourth  class  one.  There  were  only  four 
narrow  benches  in  the  whole  car,  and  about  twice  as 
many  people  were  already  seated  on  these  as  they  were 
probably  supposed  to  accommodate.  All  other  space, 
to  the  last  inch,  was  crowded  by  passengers  or  their  lug 
gage.  It  was  very  hot  and  close  and  altogether  uncom 
fortable,  and  still  at  every  new  station  fresh  passengers 


came  crowding  in,  and  actually  made  room,  spare  as  it 
was,  for  themselves.  It  became  so  terrible  that  all  glared 
madly  at  the  conductor  as  he  allowed  more  people  to 
come  into  that  prison,  and  trembled  at  the  announcement 
of  every  station.  I  cannot  see  even  now  how  the  officers 
could  allow  such  a  thing-;  it  was  really  dangerous.  The 
most  remarkable  thing  was  the  good-nature  of  the  poor 
passengers.  Few  showed  a  sour  face  even;  not  a  man 
used  any  strong  language  (audibly,  at  least).  They 
smiled  at  each  other  as  if  they  meant  to  say,  "I  am  having 
a  good  time;  so  are  you,  aren't  you?"  Young  Gittleman 
was  very  gallant,  and  so  cheerful  that  he  attracted  every 
body's  attention.  He  told  stories,  laughed,  and  made  us 
unwilling  to  be  outdone.  During  one  of  his  narratives 
he  produced  a  pretty  memorandum  book  that  pleased  one 
of  us  very  much,  and  that  pleasing  gentleman  at  once 
presented  it  to  her.  She  has  kept  it  since  in  memory  of 
the  giver,  and,  in  the  right  place,  I  could  tell  more  about 
that  matter — very  interesting. 

I  have  given  so  much  space  to  the  description  of  that 
one  night's  adventures  because  I  remember  it  so  distinct 
ly,  with  all  its  discomforts,  and  the  contrast  of  our  fellow- 
travellers'  kindly  dispositions.  At  length  that  dreadful 
night  passed,  and  at  dawn  about  half  the  passengers  left, 
all  at  once.  There  was  such  a  sigh  of  relief  and  a  stretch 
ing  of  cramped  limbs  as  can  only  be  imagined,  as  the  re- 


39 

maining  passengers  inhaled  the  fresh  cold  air  of  dewy 
dawn.  It  was  almost  worth  the  previous  suffering-  to  ex 
perience  the  pleasure  of  relief  that  followed. 

All  day  long  we  travelled  in  the  same  train,  sleeping, 
resting,  eating,  and  wishing  to  get  out.  But  the  train 
stopped  for  a  very  short  time  at  the  many  stations,  and  all 
the  difference  that  made  to  us  was  that  pretty  girls  pass 
ed  through  the  cars  with  little  bark  baskets  filled  with 
fruit  and  flowers  hardly  fresher  or  prettier  than-  their 
bearers,  who  generally  sold  something  to  our  young 
companion,  for  he  never  wearied  of  entertaining  us. 

Other  interests  there  were  none.  The  scenery  was 
nothing  unusual,  only  towns,  depots,  roads,  fields,  little 
country  houses  with  barns  and  cattle  and  poultry — all 
such  as  we  were  well  acquainted  with.  If  something"  new 
did  appear,  it  was  passed  before  one  could  get  a.  good 
look  at  it.  The  most  pleasing  sights  were  little  barefoot 
children  waving  their  aprons  or  hats  as  we  eagerly 
watched  for  them,  because  that  reminded  us  of  our  do 
ing  the  same  thing  when  we  saw  the  passenger  trains,  in 
the  country.  We  used  to  wonder  whether  we  should 
ever  do  so  again. 

Towards  evening  we  came  into  Berlin.  I  grow  dizzy 
even  now  when  I  think  of  our  whirling  through  that 
city.  It  seemed  we  were  going  faster  and  faster  all  the 
time,  but  it  was  only  the  whirl  of  trains  passing  in  oppo- 


40 

site  directions  and  close  to  us  that  made  it  seem  so.  The 
sight  of  crowds  of  people  such  as  we  had  never  seen  be 
fore,  hurrying  to  and  fro,  in  and  out  of  great  depots  that 
danced  past  us,  helped  to  make  it  more  so.  Strange 
sights,  splendid  buildings,  shops,  people  and  animals,  all 
mingled  in  one  great,  confused  mass  of  a  disposition  to 
continually  move  in  a  great  hurry,  wildly,  with  no  other 
aim  but  to  make  one's  head  go  round  and  round,  in  fol 
lowing  its  dreadful  motions.  Round  and  round  went  my 
head.  It  was  nothing  but  trains,  depots,  crowds — 
crowds,  depots,  trains,  again  and  again,  with  no  begin 
ning,  no  end,  only  a  mad  dance!  Faster  and  faster  we 
go,  faster  still,  and  the  noise  increases  with  the  speed. 
Bells,  whistles,  hammers,  locomotives  shrieking  madly, 
men's  voices,  peddlers'  cries,  horses'  hoofs,  dogs'  barking 
— all  united  in  doing  their  best  to  drown  every  other 
sound  but  their  own,  and  made  such  a  deafening  uproar 
in  the  attempt  that  nothing  could  keep  it  out.  Whirl, 
noise,  dance,  uproar — will  it  last  forever?  I'm  so — o 
diz-z-zy!  How  my  head  aches! 

And  oh!  those  people  will  be  run  over!     Stop  the  train, 

they'll — thank  goodness,  nobody  is  hurt.     But  who  ever 

f 
heard   of  a   train  passing  right  through  the  middle  of  a 

city,  up  in  the  air,  it  seems.  Oh,  dear!  it's  no  use  think 
ing,  my  head  spins  so.  Right  through  the  business 
streets!  Why,  who  ever — ! 


41 

I  must  have  lived  through  a  century  of  this  terrible 
motion  and  din  and  unheard  of  roads  for  trains,  and  con 
fused  thinking.  But  at  length  everything  began  to  take 
a  more  familiar  appearance  again,  the  noise  grew  less,  the 
roads  more  secluded,  and  by  degrees  we  recognized  the 
dear,  peaceful  country.  Now  we  could  think  of  Berlin, 
or  rather,  what  we  had  seen  of  it,  more  calmly,  and  won 
der  why  it  made  such  an  impression.  I  see  now.  We 
had  never  seen  so  large  a  city  before,  and  were  not  pre 
pared  to  see  such  sights,  bursting  upon  us  so  suddenly 
as  that.  It  was  like  allowing  a  blind  man  to  see  the  full 
glare  of  the  sun  all  at  once.  Our  little  Plotzk,  and 
even  the  larger  cities  we  had  passed  through,  compared 
to  Berlin  about  the  same  as  total  darkness  does  to  great 
brilliancy  of  light. 

In  a  great  lonely  field  opposite  a  solitary  wooden  house 
within  a  large  yard,  our  train  pulled  up  at  last,  and  a  con 
ductor  commanded  the  passengers  to  make  haste  and  get 
out.  He  need  not  have  told  us  to  hurry;  we  were  glad 
enough  to  be  free  again  after  such  a  long  imprisonment 
in  the  uncomfortable  car.  All  rushed  to  the  door.  We 
breathed  more  freely  in  the  open  field,  but  the  conductor 
did  not  wait  for  us  to  enjoy  our  freedom.  He  hurried  us 
into  the  one  large  room  which  made  up  the  house,  and 
then  into  the  yard.  Here  a  great  many  men  and  women, 
dressed  in  white,  received  us,  the  women  attending  to  the  ' 


42 

women  and  girls  of  the  passengers,  and  the  men  to  the 
others. 

This  was  another  scene  of  bewildering  confusion,  pa 
rents  losing  their  children,  and  little  ones  crying;  bag 
gage  being  thrown  together  in  one  corner  of  the  yard, 
heedless  of  contents,  which  suffered  in  consequence; 
those  white-clad  Germans  shouting  commands  always  ac 
companied  with  "Quick!  Quick!";  the  confused  passen 
gers  obeying  all  orders  like  meek  children,  only  question 
ing  now  and  then  what  was  going  to  be  done  with  them. 

And  no  wonder  if  in  some  minds  stories  arose  of  peo 
ple  being  captured  by  robbers,  murderers,  and  the  like. 
Here  we  had  been  taken  to  a  lonely  place  where  only  that 
house  was  to  be  seen;  our  things  were  taken  away,  our 
friends  separated  from  us;  a  man  came  to  inspect  us,  as  if 
to  ascertain  our  full  value;  strange  looking  people  driv 
ing  us  about  like  dumb  animals,  helpless  and  unresisting; 
children  we  could  not  see,  crying  in  a  way  that  suggested 
terrible  things;  ourselves  driven  into  a  little  room  where 
a  great  kettle  was  boiling  on  a  little  stove;  our  clothes 
taken  off,  our  bodies  rubbed  with  a  slippery  substance 
that  might  be  any  bad  thing;  a  shower  of  warm  water  let 
down  on  us  without  warning;  again  driven  to  another 
little  room  where  we  sit,  wrapped  in  woollen  blankets  till 
large,  coarse  bags  are  brought  in,  their  contents  turned 
out  and  we  see  only  a  cloud  of  steam,  and  hear  the 


43 

women's  orders  to  dress  ourselves,  quick,  quick,  or  else 
we'll  miss — something  we  cannot  hear.  We  are  forced 
to  pick  out  our  clothes  from  among-  all  the  others,  with 
the  steam  blinding-  us;  we  choke,  cough,  entreat  the 
women  to  give  us  time;  they  persist,  "Quick,  quick,  or 
you'll  miss  the  train!"  Oh,  so  we  really  won't  be  mur 
dered  !  They  are  only  making  us  ready  for  the  continu 
ing  of  our  journey,  cleaning  us  of  all  suspicions  of  dan 
gerous  germs.  Thank  God! 

Assured  by  the  word  "train"  we  manage  to  dress  our 
selves  after  a  fashion,  and  the  man  comes  again  to  inspect 
us.  All  is  right,  and  we  are  allowed  to  go  into  the  yard 
to  find  our  friends  and  our  luggage.  Both  are  difficult 
tasks,  the  second  even  harder.  Imagine  all  the  things  of 
some  hundreds  of  people  making  a  journey  like  ours,  be 
ing  mostly  unpacked  and  mixed  together  in  one  sad  heap. 
It  was  disheartening,  but  done  at  last  was  the  task  of  col 
lecting  our  belonging's,  and  we  were  marched  into  the 
big  room  again.  Here,  on  the  bare  floor,  in  a  ring,  sat 
some  Polish  men  and  women  singing  some  hymn  in  their 
own  tongue,  and  making  more  noise  than  music.  We 
were  obliged  to  stand  and  await  further  orders,  the  few 
seats  being  occupied,  and  the  great  door  barred  and  lock 
ed.  We  were  in  a  prison,  and  again  felt  some  doubts. 
Then  a  man  came  in  and  called  the  passengers'  names, 
and  when  they  answered  they  were  made  to  pay  two 


44 

marcs  each  for  the  pleasant  bath  we  had  just  been  forced 
to  take. 

Another  half  hour,  and  our  train  arrived.  The  door 
was  opened,  and  we  rushed  out  into  the  field,  glad  to  get 
back  even  to  the  fourth  class  car. 

We  had  lost  sight  of  the  Gittlemans,  who  were  going  a 
different  way  now,  and  to  our  regret  hadn't  even  said 
good-bye,  or  thanked  them  for  their  kindness. 

After  the  preceding  night  of  wakefulness  and  discom 
fort,  the  weary  day  in  the  train,  the  dizzy  whirl  through 
Berlin,  the  fright  we  had  from  the  rough  proceedings  of 
the  Germans,  and  all  the  strange  experiences  of  the  place 
we  just  escaped — after  all  this  we  needed  rest.  But  to 
get  it  was  impossible  for  all  but  the  youngest  children.  If 
we  had  borne  great  discomforts  on  the  night  before,  we 
were  suffering  now.  I  had  thought  anything  worse  im 
possible.  Worse  it  was  now.  The  car  was  even  more 
crowded,  and  people  gasped  for  breath.  People  sat  in 
strangers'  laps,  only  glad  of  that.  The  floor  was  so 
thickly  lined  that  the  conductor  could  not  pass,  and  the 
tickets  were  passed  to  him  from  hand  to  hand.  To-night 
all  were  more  worn  out,  and  that  did  not  mend  their  dis 
positions.  They  could  not  help  falling  asleep  and  collid 
ing  with  someone's  nodding  head,  which  called  out  an 
gry  mutterings  and  growls.  Some  fell  off  their  seats  and 
caused  a  great  commotion  by  rolling  over  on  the  sleepers 


45 

on  the  floor,  and,  in  spite  of  my  own  sleepiness  and  weari 
ness,  I  had  many  quiet  laughs  by  myself  as  I  watched  the 
funny  actions  of  the  poor  travellers. 

Not  until  very  late  did  I  fall  asleep.  I,  with  the  rest, 
missed  the  pleasant  company  of  our  friends,  the  Gittle- 
mans,  and  thought  about  them  as  I  sat  perched  on  a  boxr 
with  an  old  man's  knees  for  the  back  of  my  seat,  anoth 
er  man's  head  continually  striking  my  right  shoulder,  a 
dozen  or  so  arms  being  tossed  restlessly  right  in  front  of 
my  face,  and  as  many  legs  holding  me  a  fast  prisoner, 
so  that  I  could  only  try  to  keep  my  seat  against  all  the  as 
saults  of  the  sleepers  who  tried  in  vain  to  make  their  po 
sitions  more  comfortable.  It  was  all  so  comical,  in  spite 
of  all  the  inconveniences,  that  I  tried  hard  not  to  laugh 
out  loud,  till  I  too  fell  asleep.  I  was  awakened  very  early 
in  the  morning  by  something  chilling  and  uncomfortable 
on  my  face,  like  raindrops  coming  down  irregularly.  I 
found  it  was  a  neighbor  of  mine  eating  cheese,  who  was 
dropping  bits  on  my  face.  So  I  began  the  day  with  a 
laugh  at  the  man's  funny  apologies,  but  could  not  find 
much  more  fun  in  the  world  on  account  of  the  cold  and 
the  pain  of  every  limb.  It  was  very  miserable,  till  some 
breakfast  cheered  me  up  a  little. 

About  eight  o'clock  we  reached  Hamburg.  Again 
there  was  a  gendarme  to  ask  questions,  look  over  the 
tickets  and  give  directions.  But  all  the  time  he  kept  a 


46 

distance  from  those  passengers  who  came  from  Russia, 
all  for  fear  of  the  cholera.  We  had  noticed  before  how 
people  were  afraid  to  come  near  us,  but  since  that  mem 
orable  bath  in  Berlin,  and  all  the  steaming  and  smoking 
of  our  things,  it  seemed  unnecessary. 

We  were  marched  up  to  the  strangest  sort  of  vehicle 
one  could  think  of.  It  was  a  something  I  don't  know 
any  name  for,  though  a  little  like  an  express  wagon.  At 
that  time  I  had  never  seen  such  a  high,  narrow,  long- 
thing,  so  high  that  the  women  and  girls  couldn't  climb 
up  without  the  men's  help,  and  great  difficulty;  so  nar 
row  that  two  persons  could  not  sit  comfortably  side  by 
side,  and  so  long  that  it  took  me  some  time  to  move  my 
eyes  from  the  rear  end,  where  the  baggage  was,  to  the 
front,  where  the  driver  sat. 

When  all  had  settled  down  at  last  (there  were  a  number 
besides  ourselves)  the  two  horses  started  off  very  fast,  in 
spite  of  their  heavy  load.  Through  noisy,  strange  looking 
streets  they  took  us,  where  many  people  walked  or  ran  or 
rode.  Many  splendid  houses,  stone  and  brick,  and 
showy  shops,  they  passed.  Much  that  was  very  strange 
to  us  we  saw,  and  little  we  knew  anything  about.  There 
a  little  cart  loaded  with  bottles  or  tin  cans,  drawn  by  a 
goat  or  a  dog,  sometimes  two,  attracted  our  attention. 
Sometimes  it  was  only  a  nurse  carrying  a  child  in  her 
arms  that  seemed  interesting,  from  the  strange  dress.  Of- 


47 

ten  it  was  some  article  displayed  in  a  shop  window  or 
door,  or  the  usually  smiling  owner  standing  in  the  door 
way,  that  called  for  our  notice.  Not  that  there  was  any 
thing  really  unusual  in  many  of  these  things,  but  a  certain 
air  of  foreignness,  which  sometimes  was  very  vague,  sur 
rounded  everything  that  passed  before  our  interested 
gaze  as  the  horses  hastened  on. 

The  strangest  sight  of  all  we   saw  as  we  came  into  the 

still  noisier  streets.      Something  like  a  horse-car  such  as 

we  had  seen  in  Vilna  for  the  first  time,  except  that  it  was 

open  on    both  sides    (in    most    cases)  but    without  any 

horses,    came    living — really    flying — past    us.      For    we 

stared  and  looked  it  all  over,  and  above,  and  under,  and 

rubbed  our  eyes,  and  asked  of  one  another  what  we  saw, 

and  nobody  could  find  what  it  was  that  made  the  thing 

go.     And  go  it   did,  one   after  another,   faster  than  we, 

with  nothing   to   move  it.      "Why,   what     ts    that?"  we 

kept   exclaiming.      "Really,   do   you   see   anything   that 

makes  it  go?     I'm  sure  I  don't."     Then  I  ventured  the 

highly  probable  suggestion,  ''Perhaps  it's  the  fat  man  in 

the  gray   coat  and   hat  with  silver  buttons.     I  guess  he 

pushes  it.  I've  noticed  one  in  front  on  every  one  of  them, 

holding  on   to  that  shining   thing."     And    I'm  sure  this 

was  as  wise  a  solution   of   the  mystery   as   anyone  could 

give,  except  the  driver,  who  laughed  to  himself  and  his 

horses  over  our  surprise  and  wronder  at  nothing  he  could 

see  to  cause  it. 


48 

But  we  couldn't  understand  his  explanation,  though 
we  always  got  along  very  easily  with  the  Germans,  and 
not  until  much  later  did  we  know  that  those  wonderful 
things,  with  only  a  fat  man  to  move  them,  were  electric 
cars. 

The  sight-seeing  was  not  all  on  our  side.  I  noticed 
many  people  stopping  to  look  at  us  as  if  amused,  though 
most  passed  by  as  though  used  to  such  sights.  We  did 
make  a  queer  appearance  all  in  a  long  row,  up  above  peo 
ple's  heads.  In  fact,  we  looked  like  a  flock  of  giant  fowls 

roosting,  only  wide  awake. 

i 

Suddenly,  when  everything  interesting  seemed  at  an 
end,  we  all  recollected  how  long  it  was  since  we  had  start 
ed  on  our  funny  ride.  Hours,  we  thought,  and  still  the 
horses  ran.  Now  we  rode  through  quieter  streets  where 
there  were  fewer  shops  and  more  wooden  houses.  Still  the 
horses  seemed  to  have  but  just  started.  I  looked  over 
our  perch  again.  Something  made  me  think  of  a  de 
scription  I  had  read  of  criminals  being  carried  on  long 
journeys  in  uncomfortable  things — like  this?  Well,  it 
was  strange — this  long,  long  drive,  the  conveyance,  no 
word  of  explanation,  and  all,  though  going  different  ways, 
being  packed  off  together.  We  were  strangers;  the 
driver  knew  it.  He  might  take  us  anywhere — how  could 
we  tell  ?  I  was  frightened  again  as  in  Berlin.  The  faces 
around  me  confessed  the  same. 


49 

The  streets  became  quieter  still;  no  shops,  only  little 
houses;  hardly  any  people  passing.  Now  we  cross  many 
railway  tracks  and  I  can  hear  the  sea  not  very  distant. 
There  are  many  trees  now  by  the  roadside,  and  the  wind 
whistles  through  their  branches.  The  wheels  and  hoofs 
make  a  great  noise  on  the  stones,  the  roar  of  the  sea  and 
the  wind  among  the  branches  have  an  unfriendly  sound. 

The  horses  never  weary.  Still  they  run.  There  are 
no  houses  now  in  view,  save  now  and  then  a  solitary  one, 
far  away.  I  can  see  the  ocean.  Oh,  it  is  stormy.  The  dark 
waves  roll  imvard,  the  white  foam  flies  high  in  the  air; 
deep  sounds  come  from  it.  The  wheels  and  hoofs  make  a 
great  noise;  the  wind  is  stronger,  and  says,  "Do  you  hear 
the  sea?"  And  the  ocean's  roar  threatens.  The  sea 
threatens,  and  the  \vind  bids  me  hear  it,  and  the  hoofs  and 
the  wheels  repeat  the  command,  and  so  do  the  trees,  by 
gestures. 

Yes,  wre  are  frightened.  We  are  very  still.  Some  Polish 
women  over  there  have  fallen  asleep,  and  the  rest  oi  us 
look  such  a  picture  of  woe,  and  yet  so  funny,  it  is  a  sight 
to  see  and  remember. 

At  last,  at  last!  Those  unwearied  horses  have  stopped. 
Where?  In  front  of  a  brick  building,  the  only  one  on  a 
large,  broad  street,  where  only  the  trees,  and,  in  the  dis 
tance,  the  passing  trains  can  be  seen.  Nothing  else.  The 
ocean,  too,  is  shut  out. 


50 

All  were  helped  off,  the  baggage  put  on  the  sidewalk, 
and  then  taken  up  again  and  carried  into  the  building, 
where  the  passengers  were  ordered  to  go.  On  the  left 
side  of  the  little  corridor  was  a  small  office  where  a  man 
sat  before  a  desk  covered  with  papers.  These  he  pushed 
aside  when  we  entered,  and  called  us  in  one  by  one,  ex 
cept,  of  course  children.  As  usual,  many  questions  were 
asked,  the  new  ones  being  about  our  tickets.  Then  each 
person,  children  included,  had  to  pay  three  marcs — one 
for  the  wagon  that  brought  us  over  and  two  for  food  and 
lodgings,  till  our  various  ships  should  take  us  away. 

Mamma,  having  five  to  pay  for,  owed  fifteen  marcs. 
The  little  sum  we  started  with  was  to  last  us  to  the  end  of 
the  journey,  and  would  have  done  so  if  there  hadn't  been 
those  unexpected  bills  to  pay  at  Keebart,  Eidtkunen,  Ber 
lin,  and  now  at  the  office.  Seeing  how  often  services  were 
forced  upon  us  unasked  and  payment  afterwards  de 
manded,  mother  had  begun  to  fear  that  we  should  need 
more  money,  and  had  sold  some  things  to  a  woman  for 
less  than  a  third  of  their  value.  In  spite  of  that,  so  heavy 
was  the  drain  on  the  spare  purse  where  it  had  not  been 
expected,  she  found  to  her  dismay  that  she  had  only 
twelve  marcs  left  to  meet  the  new  bill. 

The  man  in  the  office  wouldn't  believe  it,  and  we  were 
given  over  in  charge  of  a  woman  in  a  dark  gray  dress  and 
long  white  apron,  with  a  red  cross  on  her  right  arm.  She 


led  us  away  and  thoroughly  searched  us  all,  as  well  as  our 
baggage.  That  was  nice  treatment,  like  what  we  had 
been  receiving  since  our  first  uninterrupted  entrance  into 
Germany.  Always  a  call  for  money,  always  suspicion  of 
our  presence  and  always  rough  orders  and  scowls  of  dis 
approval,  even  at  the  quickest  obedience.  And  now  this 
outrageous  indignity!  We  had  to  bear  it  all  because  we 
were  going  to  America  from  a  land  cursed  by  the  dread 
ful  epidemic.  Others  besides  ourselves  shared  these 
trials,  the  last  one  included,  if  that  were  any  comfort, 
which  it  was  not. 

When  the  woman  reported  the  result  of  the  search  as 
being  fruitless,  the  man  was  satisfied,  and  we  were  or 
dered  with  the  rest  through  many  more  examinations  and 
ceremonies  before  we  should  be  established  under  the 
quarantine,  for  that  it  was. 

While  waiting  for  our  turn  to  be  examined  by  the  doc 
tor  I  looked  about,  thinking  it  worth  while  to  get  ac 
quainted  with  a  place  where  we  might  be  obliged  to  stay 
for  I  knew  not  how  long.  The  room  where  we  were  sit 
ting  was  large,  with  windows  so  high  up  that  we  couldn't 
see  anything  through  them.  In  the  middle  stood  several 
long  wooden  tables,  and  around  these  were  settees  of  the 
same  kind.  On  the  right,  opposite  the  doctor's  office, 
was  a  little  room  where  various  things  could  be  bought 
of  a  young  man — if  you  hadn't  paid  all  your  money  for 
other  things. 


52 

When  the  doctor  was  through  with  us  he  told  us  to  go 
to  Number  Five.  Now  wasn't  that  like  in  a  prison?  We 
walked  up  and  down  a  long  yard  looking,  among  a  row 
of  low,  numbered  doors,  for  ours,  when  we  heard  an  ex 
clamation  of,  "Oh,  Esther!  how  do  you  happen  to  be 
here?"  and,  on  seeing  the  speaker,  found  it  to  be  an  old 
friend  of  ours  from  Plotzk.  She  had  gone  long  before 
us,  but  her  ship  hadn't  arrived  yet.  She  was  surprised 
to  see  us  because  we  had  had  no  intention  of  going  when 
she  went. 

What  a  comfort  it  was  to  find  a  friend  among  all  the 
strangers!  She  showed  us  at  once  to  our  new  quarters, 
and  while  she  talked  to  mamma  I  had  time  to  see  what 
they  were  like. 

It  looked  something  like  a  hospital,  only  less  clean  and 
comfortable;  more  like  the  soldiers'  barracks  I  had  seen. 
I  saw  a  very  large  room,  around  whose  walls  were  ranged 
rows  of  high  iron  double  bedsteads,  with  coarse  sacks 
stuffed  with  something  like  matting,  and  not  over-clean 
blankets  for  the  only  bedding,  except  where  people  used 
their  own.  There  were  three  windows  almost  touching  the 
roof,  with  nails  covering  all  the  framework.  From  the 
ceiling  hung  two  round  gas  lamps,  and  almost  under 
them  stood  a  little  wooden  table  and  a  settee.  The  floor 
was  of  stone. 

Here  was  a  pleasant  prospect.  We  had  no  idea  how 
long  this  unattractive  place  might  be  our  home. 


53 

Our  friend  explained  that  Number  Five  was  only  for 
Jewish  women  and  girls,  and  the  beds  were  sleeping 
rooms,  dining  rooms,  parlors,  and  everything  else,  kitch 
ens  excepted.  It  seemed  so,  for  some  were  lounging  on 
the  beds,  some  sitting-  up,  some  otherwise  engaged,  and 
all  were  talking  and  laughing  and  making  a  great  noise. 
Poor  things!  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  in  that  prison. 

Before  mother  had  told  our  friend  of  our  adventures, 
a  girl,  also  a  passenger,  who  had  been  walking  in  the  yard, 
ran  in  and  announced,  "It's  time  to  go  to  dinner!  He 
has  come  already."  "He"  we  soon  learned,  was  the  over 
seer  of  the  Jewish  special  kitchen,  without  whom  the 
meals  were  never  taken. 

All  the  inmates  of  Number  Five  rushed  out  in  less  than 
a  minute,  and  I  wondered  why  they  hurried  so.  When 
we  reached  the  place  that  served  as  dining  room,  there 
was  hardly  any  room  for  us.  Now,  while  the  dinner  is 
being  served,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  can  see. 

Tn  the  middle  of  the  yard  stood  a  number  of  long  tables 
covered  with  white  oilcloth.  On  either  side  of  each  table 
stood  benches  on  which  all  the  Jewish  passengers  were 
now  seated,  looking  impatiently  at  the  door  with  the  sign 
"Jewish  Kitchen"  over  it.  Pretty  soon  a  man  appeared 
in  the  doorway,  tall,  spare,  with  a  thin,  pointed  beard,  and 
an  air  of  importance  on  his  face.  It  was  "he",  the  over 
seer,  who  carried  a  large  tin  pail  filled  with  black  bread 


54 

cut  into  pieces  of  half  a  pound  each.  He  gave  a  piece  to 
every  person,  the  youngest  child  and  the  biggest  man 
alike,  and  then  went  into  the  kitchen  and  rilled  his  pail 
with  soup  and  meat,  giving  everybody  a  great  bowl  full 
of  soup  and  a  small  piece  of  meat.  All  attacked  their 
rations  as  soon  as  they  received  them  and  greatly  relished 
the  coarse  bread  and  dark,  hot  water  they  called  soup. 
We  couldn't  eat  those  things  and  only  wondered  how 
any  one  could  have  such  an  appetite  for  such  a  dinner. 
We  stopped  wondering  when  our  own  little  store  of  pro 
visions  gave  out. 

After  dinner,  the  people  went  apart,  some  going  back 
to  their  beds  and  others  to  walk  in  the  yard  or  sit  on  the 
settees  there.  There  was  no  other  place  to  go  to.  The 
doors  of  the  prison  were  never  unlocked  except  when  new 
passengers  arrived  or  others  left  for  their  ships.  The 
fences — they  really  were  solid  walls — had  wires  and  nails 
on  top,  so  that  one  couldn't  even  climb  to  get  a  look  at 
the  sea. 

We  went  back  to  our  quarters  to  talk  over  matters  and 
rest  from  our  journey.  At  six  o'clock  the  doctor  came 
with  a  clerk,  and,  standing  before  the  door,  bade  all  those 
in  the  yard  belonging  to  Number  Five  assemble  there; 
and  then  the  roll  was  called  and  everybody  received  a  lit 
tle  ticket  as  she  answered  to  her  name.  With  this  all 
went  to  the  kitchen  and  received  two  little  rolls  and  a 


55 

large  cup  of  partly  sweetened  tea.  This  was  supper;  and 
breakfast,  served  too  in  this  way  was  the  same.  Any 
wonder  that  people  hurried  to  dinner  and  enjoyed  it? 
And  it  was  always  the  same  thing,  no  change. 

Little  by  little  we  became  used  to  the  new  life,  though 
it  was  hard  to  go  hungry  day  after  day,  and  bear  the  dis 
comforts  of  the  common  room,  shared  by  so  many;  the 
hard  beds  (we  had  little  bedding  of  our  own),  and  the  con 
finement  to  the  narrow  limits  of  the  yard,  and  the  tire 
some  sameness  of  the  life.  Meal  hours,  of  course,  played 
the  most  important  part,  while  the  others  had  to  be  filled 
up  as  best  we  could.  The  weather  was  fine  most  of  the 
time  and  that  helped  much.  Everything  was  an  event, 
the  arrival  of  fresh  passengers  a  great  one  which  hap 
pened  every  day;  the  day  when  the  women  were  allowed 
to  wash  clothes  by  the  well  was  a  holiday,  and  the  few 
favorite  girls  who  were  allowed  to  help  in  the  kitchen 
were  envied.  On  dull,  rainy  days,  the  man  coming  to 
light  the  lamps  at  night  was  an  object  of  pleasure,  and 
every  one  made  the  best  of  everybody  else.  So  when  a 
young  man  arrived  who  had  been  to  America  once  be 
fore,  he  was  looked  up  to  by  every  person  there  as  a  supe 
rior,  his  stories  of  our  future  home  listened  to  with  de 
light,  and  his  manners  imitated  by  all,  as  a  sort  of  fit  prep 
aration.  He  was  wanted  everywhere,  and  he  made  the 
best  of  his  greatness  by  taking  liberties  and  putting  .on 


56 

great  airs  and,  I  afterwards  found,  imposing  on  our  ig 
norance  very  much.  But  anything  "The  American" 
did  passed  for  good,  except  his  going  away  a  few  days  too 
soon. 

Then  a  girl  came  who  was  rather  wanting  a  little 
brightness.  So  all  joined  in  imposing  upon  her  by  tell 
ing  her  a  certain  young  man  was  a  great  professor  whom 
all  owed  respect  and  homage  to,  and  she  would  do  any 
thing  in  the  world  to  express  hers,  while  he  used  her  to 
his  best  advantage,  like  the  willing  slave  she  was.  No 
body  seemed  to  think  this  unkind  at  all,  and  it  really  was 
excusable  that  the  poor  prisoners,  hungry  for  some  enter 
tainment,  should  try  to  make  a  little  fun  when  the  chance 
came.  Besides,  the  girl  had  opened  the  temptation  by 
asking,  "Who  was  the  handsome  man  in  the  glasses?  A 
professor  surely;"  showing  that  she  took  glasses  for  a 
sure  sign  of  a  professor,  and  professor  for  the  highest  pos 
sible  title  of  honor.  Doesn't  this  excuse  us? 

The  greatest  event  was  the  arrival  of  some  ship  to  take 
some  of  the  waiting  passengers.  When  the  gates  were 
opened  and  the  lucky  ones  said  good  bye,  those  left  be 
hind  felt  hopeless  of  ever  seeing  the  gates  open  for  them. 
It  was  both  pleasant  and  painful,  for  the  strangers  grew 
to  be  fast  friends  in  a  day  and  really  rejoiced  in  each  oth 
er's  fortune,  but  the  regretful  envy  could  not  be  helped 
either. 


57 

Amid  such  events  as  these  a  day  was  like  a  month  at 
least.  Eight  of  these  we  had  spent  in  quarantine  when  a 
great  commotion  was  noticed  among  the  people  of  Num 
ber  Five  and  those  of  the  corresponding  number  in  the 
men's  division.  There  was  a  good  reason  for  it.  You  re 
member  that  it  was  April  and  Passover  was  coming  on; 
in  fact,  it  began  that  night.  The  great  question  was, 
Would  we  be  able  to  keep  it  exactly  according  to  the  host 
of  rules  to  be  obeyed?  You  who  know  all  about  the  great 
holiday  can  understand  what  the  answer  to  that  question 
meant  to  us.  Think  of  all  the  work  and  care  and  money 
it  takes  to  supply  a  family  with  all  the  things  proper  and 
necessary,  and  you  will  see  that  to  supply  a  few  hundred 
was  no  small  matter.  Now,  were  they  going  to  take  care 
that  all  was  perfectly  right,  and  could  we  trust  them  if 
they  promised,  or  should  we  be  forced  to  break  any  of  the 
laws  that  ruled  the  holiday? 

All  day  long  there  was  talking  and  questioning  and  de 
bating  and  threatening  that  "we  would  rather  starve  than 
touch  anything  we  were  not  sure  of."  And  we  meant  it. 
So  some  men  and  women  went  to  the  overseer  to  let  him 
know  what  he  had  to  look  out  for.  He  assured  them  that 
he  would  rather  starve  along  with  us  than  allow  anything 
to  be  in  the  least  wrong.  Still,  there  was  more  discussing 
and  shaking  of  heads,  for  they  were  not  sure  yet. 

There  was  not  n  crumb  anywhere  to  be  found,  because 


58 

what  bread  we  received  was  too  precious  for  any  of  it  to 
be  wasted;  but  the  women  made  a  great  show  of  cleaning 
up  Number  Five,  while  they  sighed  and  looked  sad  and 
told  one  another  of  the  good  hard  times  they  had  at  home 
getting  ready  for  Passover.  Really,  hard  as  it  is,  when 
one  is  used  to  it  from  childhood,  it  seems  part  of  the  holi 
day,  and  can't  be  left  out.  To  sit  down  and  wait  for  sup 
per  as  on  other  nights  seemed  like  breaking  one  of  the 
laws.  So<  they  tried  hard  to  be  busy. 

At  night  we  were  called  by  the  overseer  (who  tried  to 
look  more  important  than  ever  in  his  holiday  clothes — 
not  his  best,  though)  to  the  feast  spread  in  one  of  the  un 
occupied  rooms.  We  were  ready  for  it,  and  anxious 
enough.  We  had  had  neither  bread  nor  matzo  for  din 
ner,  and  were  more  hungry  than  ever,  if  that  is  possible. 
We  now  found  everything  really  prepared;  there  were  the 
pillows  covered  with  a  snow-white  spread,  new  oilcloth 
on  the  newly  scrubbed  tables,  some  little  candles  stuck  in 
a  basin  of  sand  on  the  window-sill  for  the  women,  and — 
a  sure  sign  of  a  holiday — both  gas  lamps  burning.  Only 
one  was  used  on  other  nights. 

Happy  to  see  these  things,  and  smell  the  supper,  we 
took  our  places  and  waited.  Soon  the  cook  came  in  and 
filled  some  glasses  with  wine  from  two  bottles, — one  yel 
low,  one  red.  Then  she  gave  to  each  person — exactly  one 
and  a  half  matzos;  also  some  cold  meat,  burned  almost  to 
a  coal  for  the  occasion. 


59 

The  young  man— bless  him— who  had  the  honor  to 
perform  the  ceremonies,  was,  fortunately  for  us  all,  one  of 
the  passengers.  He  felt  for  and  with  us,  and  it  happened 
—just  a  coincidence — that  the  greater  part  of  the  cere 
mony  escaped  from  his  book  as  he  turned  the  leaves. 
Though  strictly  religious,  nobody  felt  in  the  least  guilty 
about  it,  especially  on  account  of  the  wine;  for,  when  we 
came  to  the  place  where  you  have  to  drink  the  wine,  we 
found  it  tasted  like  good  vinegar,  which  made  us  all 
choke  and  gasp,  and  one  little  girl  screamed  "Poison!" 
so  that  all  laughed,  and  the  leader,  who  tried  to  go  on, 
broke  down  too  at  the  sight  of  the  wry  faces  he  saw; 
while  the  overseer  looked  shocked,  the  cook  nearly  set 
her  gown  on  fire  by  overthrowing  the  candles  with  her 
apron(used  to  hide  her  face)  and  all  wished  our  Master 
Overseer  had  to  drink  that  "wine"  all  his  days. 

Think  of  the  same  ceremony  as  it  is  at  home,  then  of 
this  one  just  described.  Do  they  even  resemble  each 
other? 

Well,  the  leader  got  through  amid  much  giggling  and 
sly  looks  among  the  girls  who  understood  the  trick,  and 
frowns  of  the  older  people  (who  secretly  blessed  him  for 
it).  Then,  half  hungry,  all  went  to  bed  and  dreamed  of 
food  in  plenty. 

No  other  dreams  ?  Rather !  For  the  day  that  brought 
the  Passover  brought  us — our  own  family — the  most  glo- 


6o 

rious  news.  We  had  been  ordered  to  bring  our  baggage 
to  the  office! 

"Ordered  to  bring  our  baggage  to  the  office!"  That 
meant  nothing  less  than  that  we  were  "going  the  next 
day!" 

It  was  just  after  supper  that  we  received  the  welcome 
order.  Oh,  who  cared  if  there  wasn't  enough  to  eat? 
Who  cared  for  anything  in  the  whole  world?  We  didn't. 
It  was  all  joy  and  gladness  and  happy  anticipation  for  us. 
We  laughed,  and  cried,  and  hugged  one  another,  and 
shouted,  and  acted  altogether  like  wild  things.  Yes,  we 
were  wild  with  joy,  and  long  after  the  rest  were  asleep,  we 
were  whispering  together  and  wondering  how  we  could 
keep  quiet  the  whole  night.  We  couldn't  sleep  by  any 
means,  we  were  so  afraid  of  oversleeping  the  great  hour; 
and  every  little  while,  after  we  tried  to  sleep,  one  of  us 
would  suddenly  think  she  saw  day  at  the  window,  and 
wake  the  rest,  who  also  had  only  been  pretending  to  sleep 
while  watching  in  the  dark  for  daylight. 

When  it  came,  it  found  no  watchful  eye,  after  all.  The 
excitement  gave  way  to  fatigue,  and  drowsiness  first,  then 
deep  sleep,  completed  its  victory.  It  was  eight  o'clock 
when  we  awoke.  The  morning  was  cloudy  and  chilly, 
the  sun  being  too  lazy  to  attend  to  business;  now  and 
then  it  rained  a  little,  too.  And  yet  it  was  the  most  beau 
tiful  day  that  had  ever  dawned  on  Hamburg. 


6i 

We  enjoyed  everything  offered  for  breakfast,  two  mat- 
zos  and  two  cups  of  tea  apiece — why  it  was  a  banquet. 
After  it  came  the  good-byes,  as  we  were  going  soon.  As 
I  told  you  before,  the  strangers  became  fast  friends  in  a 
short  time  under  the  circumstances,  so  there  was  real  sor 
row  at  the  partings,  though  the  joy  of  the  fortunate  ones 
was,  in  a  measure,  shared  by  all. 

About  one  o'clock  (we  didn't  go  to  dinner — we 
couldn't  eat  for  excitement)  we  were  called.  There  were 
three  other  families,  an  old  woman,  and  a  young  man, 
among  the  Jewish  passengers,  who  were  going  with  us, 
besides  some  Polish  people.  We  were  all  hurried 
through  the  door  wre  had  watched  with  longing  for  so 
long,  and  were  a  little  way  from  it  when  the  old  woman 
stopped  short  and  called  on  the  rest  to  wait. 

"We  haven't  any  matzo!"  she  cried  in  alarm.  "Where's 
the  overseer?" 

Sure  enough  we  had  forgotten  it,  when  we  might  as 
well  have  left  one  of  us  behind.  We  refused  to  go,  call 
ing  for  the  overseer,  who  had  promised  to  supply  us,  and 
the  man  who  had  us  in  charge  grew  angry  and  said  he 
wouldn't  wait.  It  was  a  terrible  situation  for  us. 

"Oh,"  said  the  man,  "you  can  go  and  get  your  matzo, 
but  the  boat  won't  wait  for  you."  And  he  walked  off,  fol 
lowed  by  the  Polish  people  only. 

We  had  to  decide  at  once.     We  looked  at  the  old  wo- 


62 

man.  She  said  she  wasn't  going  to  start  on  a  dangerous 
journey  with  such  a  sin  on  her  soul.  Then  the  children 
decided.  They  understood  the  matter.  They  cried  and 
begged  to  follow  the  party.  And  we  did. 

Just  when  we  reached  the  shore,  the  cook  came  up 
panting  hard.  She  brought  us  matzo.  How  relieved  we 
were  then ! 

We  got  on  a  little  steamer  (the  name  is  too  big  for  it)  I 
that  was  managed  by  our  conductor  alone.     Before  we 
had  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  shrill  whistle  so  near 
us,  we  were  landing  in  front  of  a  large  stone  building. 

Once  more  we  were  under  the  command  of  the  gen 
darme.  We  were  ordered  to  go  into  a  big  room  crowded 
with  people,  and  wait  till  the  name  of  our  ship  was  called,  i 
Somebody  in  a  little  room  called  a  great  many  queer 
names,  and  many  passengers  answered  the  call.  At  last 
we  heard, 

"Polynesia!" 

We  passed  in  and  a  great  many  things  were  done  to  our! 
tickets  before  we  were  directed  to  go  outside,  then  to  a 
larger  steamer  than  the  one  we  came  in.  At  every  step 
our  tickets  were  either  stamped  or  punched,  or  a  piece 
torn  off  of  them,  till  we  stepped  upon  the  steamer's  deck. 
Then  we  were  ordered  below.  It  was  dark  there,  and  we 
didn't  like  it.  In  a  little  while  we  were  called  up  again, 
and  then  we  saw  before  us  the  great  ship  that  was  to  carry 
us  to  America. 


63 

I  only  remember,  from  that  moment,  that  I  had  only 
one  care  till  all  became  quiet;  not  to  lose  hold  of  my  sis 
ter's  hand.  Everything  else  can  be  told  in  one  word — 
noise.  But  when  I  look  back,  I  can  see  what  made  it. 
There  were  sailors  dragging  and  hauling  bundles  and 
boxes  from  the  small  boat  into  the  great  ship,  shouting 
and  thundering  at  their  work.  There  were  officers  giv 
ing  out  orders  in  loud  voices,  like  trumpets,  though  they 
seemed  to  make  no  effort.  There  were  children  crying, 
and  mothers  hushing  them,  and  fathers  questioning  the 
officers  as  to  where  they  should  go.  There  were  little  boats 
and  steamers  passing  all  around,  shrieking  and  whis 
tling  terribly.  And  there  seemed  to  be  everything  under 
heaven  that  had  any  noise  in  it,  come  to  help  swell  the 
confusion  of  sounds.  I  know  that,  but  how  we  ever  got 
in  that  quiet  place  that  had  the  sign  "For  Families"  over 
it,  I  don't  know.  I  think  we  went  around  and  around, 
long  and  far,  before  we  got  there. 

But  there  we  were,  sitting  quietly  on  a  bench  by  the 
white  berths. 

When  the  sailors  brought  our  things,  we  got  every 
thing  in  order  for  the  journey  as  soon  as  possible,  that  we 
might  go  on  deck  to  see  the  starting.  But  first  we  had  to 
obey  a  sailor,  who  told  us  to  come  and  get  dishes.  Each 
person  received  a  plate,  a  spoon  and  a  cup.  I  wondered 
how  we  could  get  along  if  we  had  had  no  things  of  our 
own. 


64 

For  an  hour  or  two  more  there  were  still  many  noises 
on  deck,  and  many  preparations  made.  Then  we  went 
up,  as  most  of  the  passengers  did. 

What  a  change  in  the  scene!  Where  there  had  been 
noise  and  confusion  before,  peace  and  quiet  were  now. 
All  the  little  boats  and  steamers  had  disappeared,  and  the 
wharf  was  deserted.  On  deck  the  "Polynesia"  everything 
was  in  good  order,  and  the  officers  walked  about  smoking 
their  cigars  as  if  their  work  was  done.  Only  a  few  sailors ' 
were  at  work  at  the  big  ropes,  but  they  didn't  shout  as 
before.  The  weather  had  changed,  too,  for  the  twilight 
was  unlike  what  the  day  had  promised.  The  sky  was 
soft  gray,  with  faint  streaks  of  yellow  on  the  horizon. 
The  air  was  still  and  pleasant,  much  warmer  than  it  had 
been  all  the  day;  and  the  water  was  as  motionless  and 
clear  as  a  deep,  cool  well,  and  everything  was  mirrored 
in  it  clearly. 

This  entire  change  in  the  scene,  the  peace  that  encir 
cled  everything  around  us,  seemed  to  give  all  the  same 
feeling  that  I  know  I  had.  I  fancied  that  nature  created 
it  especially  for  us,  so  that  we  would  be  allowed,  in  this 
pause,  to  think  of  our  situation.  All  seemed  to  do  so ;  all 
spoke  in  low  voices,  and  seemed  to  be  looking  for  some 
thing  as  they  gazed  quietly  into  the  smooth  depths  below, 
or  the  twilight  skies  above.  Were  they  seeking  an  assur 
ance?  Perhaps;  for  there  was  something  strange  in  the 


65 

absence  of  a  crowd  of  friends  on  the  shore,  to  cheer  and 
salute,  and  fill  the  air  with  white  clouds  and  last  farewells. 

I  found  the  assurance.  The  very  stillness  was  a  voice 
—nature's  voice;  and  it  spoke  to  the  ocean  and  said, 

"I  entrust  to  you  this  vessel.  Take  care  of  it,  for  it 
bears  my  children  with  it.  from  one  strange  shore  to  an 
other  more  distant,  where  loving  friends  are  waiting  to 
embrace  them  after  long  partings.  Be  gentle  with  your 
charge." 

And  the  ocean,  though  seeming  so  still,  replied, 

"[  will  obey  my  mistress." 

I  heard  it  all,  and  a  feeling  of  safety  and  protection 
came  to  me.  And  when  at  last  the  wheels  overhead  be 
gan  to  turn  and  clatter,  and  the  ripples  on  the  water  told 
us  that  the  "Polynesia"  had  started  on  her  journey,  which 
was  not  noticeable  from  any  other  sign,  I  felt  only  a  sense 
of  happiness.  I  mistrusted  nothing. 

But  the  old  woman  who  remembered  the  matzo  did, 
more  than  anybody  else.  She  made  great  preparations 
for  being  seasick,  and  poisoned  the  air  with  garlic  and 
onions. 

When  the  lantern  fixed  in  the  ceiling  had  been  lighted, 
the  captain  and  the  steward  paid  us  a  visit.  They  took 
up  our  tickets  and  noticed  all  the  passengers,  then  left. 
Then  a  sailor  brought  supper — bread  and  coffee.  Only 
a  few  ate  it.  Then  all  went  to  bed,  though  it  was  very 
early. 


* 

Nobody  expected  seasickness  as  soon  as  it  seized  us. 
All  slept  quietly  the  whole  night,  not  knowing  any  differ 
ence  between  being  on  land  or  at  sea.  About  five  o'clock 
I  woke  up,  and  then  I  felt  and  heard  the  sea.  A  very  dis 
agreeable  smell  came  from  it,  and  I  knew  it  was  disturbed 
by  the  rocking  of  the  ship.  Oh,  how  wretched  it  made 
us!  From  side  to  side  it  went  rocking,  rocking.  Ugh! 
Many  of  the  passengers  are  very  sick  indeed,  they  suffer 
terribly.  We  are  all  awake  now,  and  wonder  if  we,  too, 
will  be  so  sick.  Some  children  are  crying,  at  intervals. 
There  is  nobody  to  comfort  them — all  are  so  miserable. 
Oh,  I  am  so  sick!  I'm  dizzy;  everything  is  going  round 
and  round  before  my  eyes — Oh-h-h! 

I  can't  even  begin  to  tell  of  the  suffering  of  the  next 
few  hours.  Then  I  thought  I  would  feel  better  if  I  could 
go  on  deck.  Somehow,  I  got  down  (we  had  upper  berths) 
and,  supporting  myself  against  the  walls,  I  came  on  deck. 
But  it  was  worse.  The  green  water,  tossing  up  the  white 
foam,  rocking  all  around,  as  far  as  I  dared  to  look,  was 
frightful  to  me  then.  So  I  crawled  back  as  well  as  I  could, 
and  nobody  else  tried  to  go  out. 

By  and  by  the  doctor  and  the  steward  came.  The  doc 
tor  asked  each  passenger  if  they  were  well,  but  only 
smiled  when  all  begged  for  some  medicine  to  take  away 
the  dreadful  suffering.  To  those  who  suffered  from  any 
thing  besides  seasickness  he  sent  medicine  and  special 


67 

food  later  on.  His  companion  appointed  one  of  the  men 
passengers  for  every  twelve  or  fifteen  to  carry  the  meals 
from  the  kitchen,  giving  them  cards  to  get  it  with.  For 
our  group  a  young  German  was  appointed,  who  was 
making  the  journey  for  the  second  time,  with  his  mother 
and  sister.  We  were  great  friends  with  them  during  the 
journey. 

The  doctor  went  away  soon,  leaving  the  sufferers  in  the 
same  sad  condition.  At  twelve,  a  sailor  announced  that 
dinner  was  ready,  and  the  man  brought  it — large  tin  pails 
and  basins  of  soup,  meat,  cabbage,  potatoes,  and  pudding 
(the  last  was  allowed  only  once  a  week) ;  and  almost  all  of 
it  was  thrown  away,  as  only  a  few  men  ate.  The  rest 
couldn't  bear  even  the  smell  of  food.  It  was  the  same  with 
the  supper  at  six  o'clock.  At  three  milk  had  been  brought 
for  the  babies,  and  brown  bread  (a  treat)  with  coffee  for 
the  rest.  But  after  supper  the  daily  allowance  of  fresh 
water  was  brought,  and  this  soon  disappeared  and  more 
called  for,  which  was  refused,  although  we  lived  on  water 
alone  for  a  week. 

At  last  the  day  was  gone,  and  much  we  had  borne  in  it. 
Night  came,  but  brought  little  relief.  Some  did  fall 
asleep,  and  forgot  suffering  for  a  few  hours.  I  was  awake 
late.  The  ship  was  quieter,  and  everything  sadder  than 
by  daylight.  I  thought  of  all  we  had  gone  through  till 
we  had  got  on  board  the  "Polynesia";  of  the  parting  from 


68 

all  friends  and  things  we  loved,  forever,  as  far  as  we  knew; 
of  the  strange  experience  at  various  strange  places;  of  the 
kind  friends  who  helped  us,  and  the  rough  officers  who 
commanded  us;  of  the  quarantine,  the  hunger,  then  the 
happy  news,  and  the  coming  on  board.  Of  all  this  I 
thought,  and  remembered  that  we  were  far  away  from 
friends,  and  longed  for  them,  that  I  might  be  made  well 
by  speaking  to  them.  And  every  minute  was  making  the 
distance  between  us  greater,  a  meeting  more  impossible. 
Then  I  remembered  why  we  were  crossing  the  ocean,  and 
knew  that  it  was  worth  the  price.  At  last  the  noise  of  the 
wheels  overhead,  and  the  dull  roar  of  the  sea,  rocked  me 
to  sleep. 

For  a  short  time  only.  The  ship  was  tossed  about  more 
than  the  day  before,  and  the  great  waves  sounded  like  dis 
tant  thunder  as  they  beat  against  it,  and  rolled  across  the 
deck  and  entered  the  cabin.  We  found,  however,  that 
we  were  better,  though  very  weak.  We  managed  to  go 
on  deck  in  the  afternoon,  when  it  was  calm  enough.  A 
little  band  was  playing,  and  a  few  young  sailors  and  Ger 
man  girls  tried  even  to  dance;  but  it  was  impossible. 

As  I  sat  in  a  corner  where  no  waves  could  reach  me, 
holding  on  to  a  rope,  I  tried  to  take  in  the  grand  scene. 
There  was  the  mighty  ocean  I  had  heard  of  only,  spread 
ing  out  its  rough  breadth  far,  far  around,  its  waves  giving 
out  deep,  angry  tones,  and  throwing  up  walls  of  spray 


69 

into  the  air.  There  was  the  sky,  like  the  sea,  full  of 
ridges  of  darkest  clouds,  bending  to  meet  the  waves,  and 
following  their  motions  and  frowning  and  threatening. 
And  there  was  the  "Polynesia"  in  the  midst  of  this  world 
of  gloom,  and  anger,  and  distance.  I  saw  these,  but  indis 
tinctly,  not  half  comprehending  the  wonderful  picture. 
For  the  suffering  had  left  me  dull  and  tired  out.  I  only 
knew  that  I  was  sad,  and  everybody  else  was  the  same. 

Another  day  gone,  and  we  congratulate  one  another 
that  seasickness  lasted  only  one  day  with  us.  So  we  go 
to  sleep. 

Oh,  the  sad  mistake!  For  six  days  longer  we  remain 
in  our  berths,  miserable  and  unable  to  eat.  It  is  a  long 
fast,  hardly  interrupted,  during  which  we  know  that  the 
weather  is  unchanged,  the  sky  dark,  the  sea  stormy. 

On  the  eighth  day  out  we  are  again  able  to  be  about.  I 
went  around  everywhere,  exploring  every  corner,  and 
learning  much  from  the  sailors;  but  I  never  remembered 
the  names  of  the  various  things  I  asked  about,  they  were 
so  many,  and  some  German  names  hard  to  learn.  We  all 
made  friends  with  the  captain  and  other  officers,  and 
many  of  the  passengers.  The  little  band  played  regular 
ly  on  certain  days,  and  the  sailors  and  girls  had  a  good 
many  dances,  though  often  they  were  swept  by  a  wave 
across  the  deck,  quite  out  of  time.  The  children  were 
allowed  to  play  on  deck,  but  carefully  watched. 


7o 

Still  the  weather  continued  the  same,  or  changing 
slightly.  But  I  was  able  now  to  see  all  the  grandeur  of 
my  surroundings,  notwithstanding  the  weather. 

Oh,  what  solemn  thoughts  I  had!  How  deeply  I  felt 
the  greatness,  the  power  of  the  scene!  The  immeasura 
ble  distance  from  horizon  to  horizon;  the  huge  billows 
forever  changing  their  shapes — now  only  a  wavy  and 
rolling  plain,  now  a  chain  of  great  mountains,  coming 
and  going  farther  away;  then  a  town  in  the  distance,  per 
haps,  with  spires  and  towers  and  buildings  of  gigantic 
dimensions;  and  mostly  a  vast  mass  of  uncertain  shapes, 
knocking  against  each  other  in  fury,  and  seething  and 
foaming  in  their  anger;  the  grey  sky,  with  its  mountains 
of  gloomy  clouds,  flying,  moving  with  the  waves,  as  it 
seemed,  very  near  them;  the  absence  of  any  object  be 
sides  the  one  ship;  and  the  deep,  solemn  groans  of  the 
sea,  sounding  as  if  all  the  voices  of  the  world  had  been 
turned  into  sighs  and  then  gathered  into  that  one  mourn 
ful  sound — so  deeply  did  I  feel  the  ^presence  of  these 
things,  that  the  feeling  became  one  of  awe,  both  painful 
and  sweet,  and  stirring  and  warming,  and  deep  and  calm 
and  grand. 

I  thought  of  tempests  and  shipwreck,  of  lives  lost, 
treasures  destroyed,  and  all  the  tales  I  had  heard  of  the 
misfortunes  at  sea,  and  knew  I  had  never  before  had  such 
a  clear  idea  of  them.  I  tried  to  realize  that  I  saw  only  a 


part  of  an  immense  whole,  and  then  my  feelings  were  ter 
rible  in  their  force.  I  was  afraid  of  thinking  then,  but 
could  not  stop  it.  My  mind  would  go  on  working,  till  I 
was  overcome  by  the  strength  and  power  that  was  great 
er  than  myself.  What  I  did  at  such  times  I  do  not  know. 
I  must  have  been  dazed. 

After  a  while  I  could  sit  quietly  and  gaze  far  away. 
Then  I  would  imagine  myself  all  alone  on  the  ocean,  and 
Robinson  Crusoe  was  very  real  to  me.  i  was  ale  tie 
sometimes.  I  was  aware  of  no  human  presence;  I  \\ as 
conscious  only  of  sea  and  sky  and  something  I  did  rot 
understand.  And  as  I  listened  to  its  solemn  voice,  I  felt 
as  if  I  had  found  a  friend,  and  knew  that  I  loved  the 
ocean.  It  seemed  as  if  it  were  within  as  well  as  without, 
a  part  of  myself;  and  I  wondered  how  I  had  lived  without 
it,  and  if  T  could  ever  part  with  it. 

The  ocean  spoke  to  me  in  other  besides  mournful  or 
angry  tones.  T  loved  even  the  angry  voice,  but  when  it 
became  soothing,  I  could  hear  a  sweet,  gentle  accent  that 
reached  my  soul  rather  than  my  ear.  Perhaps  I  imagin 
ed  it.  I  do  not  know.  What  was  real  and  what  imagin 
ary  blended  in  one.  But  I  heard  and  felt  it,  and  at  such 
moments  I  wished  I  could  live  on  the  sea  forever,  and 
thought  that  the  sight  of  land  would  be  very  unwelcome 
to  me.  I  did  not  want  to  be  near  any  person.  Alone 
with  the  ocean  forever — that  was  my  wish. 


72 

Leading-  a  quiet  life,  the  same  every  day,  and  thinking 
such  thoughts,  feeling  such  emotions,  the  days  were  very 
long.  I  do  not  know  how  the  others  passed  the  time,  be 
cause  I  was  so  lost  in  my  meditations.  But  when  the  sky 
would  smile  for  awhile — when  a  little  sunlight  broke  a 
path  for  itself  through  the  heavy  clouds,  which  disappear 
ed  as  though  frightened;  and  when  the  sea  looked  more 
friendly,  and  changed  its  color  to  match  the  heavens, 
which  were  higher  up — then  we  would  sit  on  deck  to 
gether,  and  laugh  for  mere  happiness  as  we  talked  of  the 
nearing  meeting,  which  the  unusual  fairness  of  the  weath 
er  seemed  to  bring  nearer.  Sometimes,  at  such  minutes 
of  sunshine  and  gladness,  a  few  birds  would  be  seen 
making  their  swift  journey  to  some  point  we  did  not 
know  of;  sometimes  among  the  light  clouds,  then  almost 
touching  the  surface  of  the  waves.  How  shall  I  tell  you 
what  we  felt  at  the  sight?  The  birds  were  like  old 
friends  to  us,  and  brought  back  many  memories,  which 
seemed  very  old,  though  really  fresh.  All  felt  sadder 
when  the  distance  became  too  great  for  us  to  see  the  dear 
little  friends,  though  it  was  not  for  a  long  time  after  their 
first  appearance.  We  used  to  watch  for  them,  and  often 
mistook  the  clouds  for  birds,  and  were  thus  disappointed. 
When  they  did  come,  how  envious  we  were  of  their 

wings!     It  was  a  new  thought  to  me  that  the  birds  had 

more  power  than  man. 


73 

In  this  way  the  days  went  by.  I  thought  my  thoughts 
each  day,  as  I  watched  the  scene,  hoping  to  see  a  beauti 
ful  sunset  some  day.  I  never  did,  to  my  disappointment. 
And  each  night,  as  I  lay  in  my  berth,  waiting  for  sleep,  I 
wished  I  might  be  able  even  to  hope  for  the  happiness  of 
a  sea-voyage  after  this  had  been  ended. 

Yet,  when,  on  the  twelfth  day  after  leaving  Hamburg, 
the  captain  announced  that  we  should  see  land  before 
long,  I  rejoiced  as  much  as  anybody  else.  We  were  so 
excited  with  expectation  that  nothing  else  was  heard  but 
the  talk  of  the  happy  arrival,  now  so  near.  Some  were 
even  willing  to  stay  up  at  night,  to  be  the  first  ones  to  see 
the  shores  of  America.  It  was  therefore  a  great  disap 
pointment  when  the  captain  said,  in  the  evening,  that  we 
would  not  reach  Boston  as  soon  as  he  expected,  on  ac 
count  of  the  weather. 

A  dense  fog  set  in  at  night,  and  grew  heavier  and  heav 
ier,  until  the  "Polynesia"  was  closely  walled  in  by  it,  and 
we  could  just  see  from  one  end  of  the  deck  to  the  other. 
The  signal  lanterns  were  put  up,  the  passengers  were 
driven  to  their  berths  by  the  cold  and  damp,  the  cabin 
doors  closed,  and  discomfort  reigned  everywhere. 

But  the  excitement  of  the  day  had  tired  us  out,  and 
we  were  glad  to  forget  disappointment  in  sleep.  In  the 
morning  it  was  still  foggy,  but  we  could  see  a  little  way 
around.  It  was  very  strange  to  have  the  boundless  dis- 


tance  made  so  narrow,  and  I  felt  the  strangeness  of  the 
scene.  All  day  long  we  shivered  with  cold,  and  hardly 
left  the  cabin.  At  last  it  was  night  once  more,  and  we  in 
our  berths.  But  nobody  slept. 

The  sea  had  been  growing  rougher  during  the  day,  and 
at  night  the  ship  began  to  pitch  as  it  did  at  the  beginning 
of  the  journey.  Then  it  grew  worse.  Everything  in  our 
cabin  was  rolling  on  the  floor,  clattering  and  dinning. 
Dishes  were  broken  into  little  bits  that  flew  about  from 
one  end  to  the  other.  Bedding  from  upper  berths  nearly 
stifled  the  people  in  the  lower  ones.  Some  fell  out  of 
their  berths,  but  it  was  not  at  all  funny.  As  the  ship 
turned  to  one  side,  the  passengers  were  violently  thrown 
against  that  side  of  the  berths,  and  some  boards  gave  way 
and  clattered  down  to  the  floor.  When  it  tossed  on  the 
other  side,  we  could  see  the  little  windows  almost  touch 
the  water,  and  closed  the  shutters  to  keep  out  the  sight. 
The  children  cried,  everybody  groaned,  and  sailors  kept 
coming  in  to  pick  up  the  things  on  the  floor  and  carry 
them  away.  This  made  the  confusion  less,  but  not  the 
alarm. 

Above  all  sounds  rose  the  fog  horn.  It  never  stopped 
the  long  night  through.  And  oh,  how  sad  it  sounded!  It 
pierced  every  heart,  and  made  us  afraid.  Now  and  then 
some  ship,  far  away,  would  answer,  like  a  weak  echo. 
Sometimes  we  noticed  that  the  wheels  were  still,  and  we 


75 

knew   that   the   ship   had   stopped.     This  frightened   us 
more  than  ever,  for  we  imagined  the  worst  reasons  for  it. 

It  was  day  again,  and  a  little  calmer.  We  slept  now, 
till  the  afternoon.  Then  we  saw  that  the  fog  had  become 
much  thinner,  and  later  on  we  even  saw  a  ship,  but  indis 
tinctly. 

Another  night  passed,  and  the  day  that  followed  was 
pretty  fair,  and  towards  evening  the  sky  was  almost 
cloudless.  The  captain  said  we  should  have  no  more 
rough  weather,  for  now  we  were  really  near  Boston.  Oh, 
how  hard  it  was  to  wait  for  the  happy  day!  Somebody 
brought  the  news  that  we  should  land  to-morrow  in  the 
atternoon.  We  didn't  believe  it,  so  he  said  that  the  stew 
ard  had  ordered  a  great  pudding  full  of  raisins  for  sup 
per  that  day  as  a  sure  sign  that  it  was  the  last  on  board. 
We  remembered  the  pudding,  but  didn't  believe  in  its 
meaning. 

I  don't  think  we  slept  that  night.     After  all  the  suffer 
ing  of  our  journey,  after  seeing  and  hearing  nothing  but 
the  sky  and  the  sea  and  its  roaring,  it  was  impossible  to 
sleep    when   we  thought  that  soon  we   would  see   trees, 
'fields,  fresh  people,  animals— a  world,    and  that  world 
America.     Then,  above  everything,  was  the  meeting  with  } 
friends  we  had  not  seen  for  years;  for  almost  everybody 
liad  some  friends  awaiting  them. 
>     Morning  found  all  the  passengers  up  and  expectant. 


76 

Someone  questioned  the  captain,  and  he  said  we  would 
land  to-morrow.  There  was  another  long  day,  and  an 
other  sleepless  night,  but  when  these  ended  at  last,  how 
busy  we  were!  First  we  packed  up  all  the  things  we  did 
not  need,  then  put  on  fresh  clothing,  and  then  went  on 
deck  to  watch  for  land.  It  was  almost  three  o'clock,  the 
hour  the  captain  hoped  to  reach  Boston,  but  there  was 
nothing  new  to  be  seen.  The  weather  was  fair,  so  we 
would  have  seen  anything  within  a  number  of  miles. 
Anxiously  we  watched,  and  as  we  talked  of  the  strange 
delay,  our  courage  began  to  give  out  with  our  hope. 
When  it  could  be  borne  no  longer,  a  gentleman  went  to 
speak  to  the  captain.  He  was  on  the  upper  deck,  exam~ 
ining  the  horizon.  He  put  off  the  arrival  for  the  next 
day! 

You  can  imagine  our  feelings  at  this.  When  it  was 
worse  the  captain  came  down  and  talked  so  assuringly 
that,  in  spite  of  all  the  disappointments  we  had  had,  we 
believed  that  this  was  the  last,  and  were  quite  cheerful 
when  we  went  to  bed. 

The  morning  was  glorious.  It  was  the  eighth  of  May, 
the  seventeenth  day  after  we  left  Hamburg.  The  sky 
was  clear  and  blue,  the  sun  shone  brightly,  as  if  to  con 
gratulate  us  that  we  had  safely  crossed  the  stormy  sea; 
and  to  apologize  for  having  kept  away  from  us  so  long.. 
The  sea  had  lost  its  fury;  it  was  almost  as  quiet  as  it  had; 


77 

been  at  Hamburg  before  we  started,  and  its  color  was  a 
beautiful  greenish  blue.  Birds  were  all  the  time  in  the 
air,  and  it  was  worth  while  to  live  merely  to  hear  their 
songs.  And  soon,  oh  joyful  sight!  we  saw  the  tops  of 
two  trees! 

^~' 

What  a  shout  there  rose!  Everyone  pointed  out  the 
welcome  sight  to  everybody  else,  as  if  they  did  not  see  it. 
All  eyes  were  fixed  on  it  as  if  they  saw  a  miracle.  And 
this  was  only  the  beginning  of  the  joys  of  the  day! 

What  confusion  there  was!  Some  were  flying  up  the 
stairs  to  the  upper  deck,  some  were  tearing  down  to  the 
lower  one,  others  were  running  in  and  out  of  the  cabins, 
some  were  in  all  parts  of  the  ship  in  one  minute,  and  all 
ivere  talking  and  laughing  and  getting  in  somebody's 
way.  Such  excitement,  such  joy!  We  had  seen  two 

trees! 
i 
Then  steamers  and  boats  of  all  kinds  passed  by,  in  all 

directions.     We  shouted,  and  the  men  stood  up  in  the 

I 

iboats  and  returned  the  greeting,  waving  their  hats.     We 

•'vvere  as  glad  to  see  them   as  if   they  were  old  friends  of 

6urs. 

j    Oh,  what  a  beautiful  scene!     No  corner  of  the  earth  is 

half  so  fair  as  the  lovely  picture  before  us.  It  came  to 
iew  suddenly, — a  green  field,  a  real  field  with  grass  on  it, 
.nd  large  houses,  and  the  dearest  hens  and  little  chickens 
n  all  the  world,  and  trees,  and  birds,  and  people  at  work. 


The  young  green  things  put  new  life  into  us,  and  are  so 
dear  to  our  eyes  that  we  dare  not  speak  a  word  now,  lest 
the  magic  should  vanish  away  and  we  should  be  left  to 
the  stormy  scenes  we  know. 

But  nothing  disturbed  the  fairy  sight.  Instead,  new 
scenes  appeared,  beautiful  as  the  first.  The  sky  becomes 
bluer  all  the  time,  the  sun  warmer:  the  sea  is  too  quiet  for 
its  name,  and  the  most  beautiful  blue  imaginable. 

What  are  the  feelings  these  sights  awaken!  They  can 
not  be  described.  To  know  how  great  was  our  happi 
ness,  how  complete,  how  free  from  even  the  shadow  of  a 
sadness,  you  must  make  a  journey  of  sixteen  days  on  a 
stormy  ocean.  Is  it  possible  that  we  will  ever  again  be 
so  happy? 

It  was  about  three  hours  since  we  saw  the  first  land 
marks,  when  a  number  of  men  came  on  board,  from  a  lit 
tle  steamer,  and  examined  the  passengers  to  see  if  they 
were  properly  vaccinated  (we  had  been  vaccinated  on  tl:  e 
"Polynesia"),  and  pronounced  everyone  all  right.  Then 
they  went  away,  except  one  man  who  remained.  An 
hour  later  we  saw  the  wharves. 

Before  the  ship  had  fully  stopped,  the  climax  of  our  jpy 
was  reached.  One  of  us  espied  the  figure  and  face  we 
had  longed  to  see  for  three  long  years.  In  a  moment 
five  passengers  on  the  "Polynesia"  were  crying,  "Papa^," 
and  gesticulating,  and  laughing,  and  hugging  one  anoth- 


79 

er,  and  going  wild  altogether.  All  the  rest  were  roused 
by  our  excitement,  and  came  to  see  our  father.  He  rec 
ognized  us  as  soon  as  we  him,  and  stood  apart  on  the 
wharf  not  knowing  what  to  do,  I  thought. 

What  followed  was  slow  torture.  Like  mad  things  we 
ran  about  where  there  was  room,  unable  to  stand  still  as 
long  as  we  were  on  the  ship  and  he  on  shore.  To  have 
crossed  the  ocean  only  to  come  within  a  few  yards  of  him, 
unable  to  get  nearer  till  all  the  fuss  was  over,  was  dread 
ful  enough.  But  to  hear  other  passengers  called  who 
had  no  reason  for  hurry,  while  we  were  left  among  the 
last,  was  unendurable. 

Oh.  dear!  Why  can't  we  get  oft"  the  hateful  ship?  Why 
can't  papa  come  to  us?  Why  so  many  ceremonies  at  the 
landing? 

(      We  said  goodbye  to   our  friends  as  their   turn  came, 

'  wishing  we  were  in  their  luck.     To  give  us  something 

|  else  to  think  of,  papa  succeeded  in  passing  us  some  fruit; 

and  we  wondered  to  find  it  anything  but  a  great  wonder, 

for  we  expected   to   find    everything   marvellous  in  the 

strange  country. 

Still  the  ceremonies  went  on.  Each  person  was  asked 
a  hundred  or  so  stupid  questions,  and  all  their  answers 
were  written  down  by  a  very  slow  man.  The  baggage 
had  to  be  examined,  the  tickets,  and  a  hundred  other 
things  done  before  anyone  was  allowed  to  step  ashore, 
all  to  keep  us  back  as  long  as  possible. 


8o 

Now  imagine  yourself  parting  with  all  you  love,  be 
lieving  it  to  be  a  parting  for  life;  breaking  up  your  home, 
selling  the  things  that  years  have  made  dear  to  you ;  start 
ing  on  'a  journey  without  the  least  experience  in  trav 
elling,  in  the  face  of  many  inconveniences  on  account  of 
the  want  of  sufficient  money;  being  met  with  disappoint 
ment  where  it  was  not  to  be  expected;  with  rough  treat 
ment  everywhere,  till  you  are  forced  to  go  and  make 
friends  for  yourself  among  strangers;  being  obliged  to 
sell  some  of  your  most  necessary  things  to  pay  bills  you 
did  not  willingly  incur;  being  mistrusted  and  searched, 
then  half  starved,  and  lodged  in  common  with  a  multi 
tude  of  strangers;  suffering  the  miseries  of  seasickness: 
the  disturbances  and  alarms  of  a  stormy  sea  for  sixteen 
days ;  and  then  stand  within,  a  few  yards  of  him  for  whom 
you  did  all  this,  unable  to  even  speak  to  him  easily.  HovV 
do  you  feel? 

Oh,  it's  our  turn  at  last!  We  are  questioned,  examin 
ed,  and  dismissed!  A  rush  over  the  planks  on  one  sidel, 
over  the  ground  on  the  other,  six  wild  beings  cling  uo 
each  other,  bound  by  a  common  bond  of  tender  joy,  and 
the  long  parting  is  at  an  END. 


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